LOOK AT ME!
by crinklescofftrip
Summary: KisaIta, Multichapter sequal to EBGW. Itachi and Kisame receive a retrieval mission in the Wave Country, but Kisame seems to be hesitating about going through with it...
1. chapter 1

All men have weaknesses, regardless of where they stand in the world. The only difference between the common and the powerful is that the latter will learn to hide their weaknesses early in life, whereas the stupid or the brave will display themselves openly to both friends and enemies alike. That's why they are, and why they remain, commoners. If one wishes to rule the world, he needs to be clever enough to make others believe him when he says he is invincible.

But regardless, weakness is still there. And in most cases, a weakness is only an indulgence. In fear, in confidence, in people or items... a need that cannot be broken no matter what methods are used against it. If it were possible to get rid of it, well then, there wouldn't need to be that rule, now would there? But Gato wasn't anywhere near strong enough to defy the rule, and in all honesty, he had never met a man who was.

He heard a knock on his door and immediately called for the person on the other side to enter. With his eyes watching the gradual ticking of the clock mounted above his fireplace, Gato knew what time it was, but the late night visitor was far from a surprise to him.

He only allowed himself to be seen without his bodyguards by so many people, but the type of person he expected to come see him in the middle of the night was one of them. Another part of his indulgence. But still, he wasn't stupid. His guards were still present in the hotel, stationed throughout the hotel, just in case. When one becomes powerful, it should be noted, he also becomes hated. And the people clever enough to hide their weaknesses also learn early on that there is an intimidating power in having a pair of very large, armed men prepared to carry out their every whim on whatever wholesome hero-of-town they thought might deserve it. Yes, power was sweet...

Gato didn't need to turn around after the he heard the click of the door being opened. True, as a person he didn't know the girl who had just entered and was now standing quietly behind him, had never seen her before and would likely never see her again. But tonight she was his employee, and playing a part that he already knew very well.

And of course, he knew it was a she...

"You're late," he said to her, back still to the doorway.

He heard the sound of the door being hastily closed, and then a timid voice answering him, "I-I'm sorry, I had trouble getting—"

"Don't let it happen with your future employers," Gato said to the clock. He was no longer paying attention to its numbers, but listening for the faint sound of the girl's weight shifting on the floorboards behind him. He wanted her to think that he was annoyed with her, that his schedule could have easily kept him away from the hotel room at that moment, despite the lateness of the hour. After giving the thought time to slip into the girl's head, he asked her, "You've already been told what to do?"

"Hai."

Gato turned, taking in the girl's appearance through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. His glasses were never removed in private, much less for someone like his current visitor. She was still standing in front of his door, hands nervously hidden behind her back. He could see her shirt sleeve moving as she rubbed it from wrist to elbow with long white fingers, thankfully not bony as some of the village girls' were. A pair of large dark eyes looked back him, then immediately fluttered toward the floor when they noticed him looking her over. She was dressed exactly as he had requested: in a short blue plaited skirt that was dangerously high on her thighs and hung close to her skin as if clinging. There was also a tight-fitting button down dress shirt, topped with a matching blue ribbon tied around her neck to keep her collar modestly held together. The hem of her shirt was casually untucked and the bottom two buttons left undone to expose a small triangle of milky white skin over the girl's stomach. That particular portion of the girl's skin held his attention, seeming to glow invitingly in the moving firelight.

Sensing where his eyes were focused, the girl shifted her weight from one hip to the other, expertly making the triangle glide across her abdomen while he continued his inspection. By request, the knee-high socks that were worn with the official uniforms of the village schools were left out of the outfit, leaving long, long legs bare and gleaming in the shadowy hotel room. Almost begging to be touched.

Gato cleared his throat, and said sternly, "Take off your shoes before you come in."

Without a word, the slim form in front of him bent forward, and Gato watched. The sandals she was wearing were old and worn looking, the kind that could be found at a garage sale or stolen from a chapel's clothes drive. She unclasped them slowly, raven hair falling forward like the blacking shields on the sides of a horse. Then without looking up to see if he was still watching her, the girl pulled herself back up, letting her hands ghost along the length of her legs as they went. Gato didn't take his eyes off the spidery hands as they continued traveling up, even after she was standing regularly again. They slipped under her skirt, forcing the blue material to bunch on her hips as they hooked onto something underneath. One swift tug and she let her skirt fall back into place. She withdrew her hands, and some thin, black material slid to the floor on its own. Daintily, the school girl stepped forward, leaving the old shoes and lacy underclothes behind her. Her smile was as unnoticing as he could have asked for.

Gato stared for a minute; then forced himself back to remembering that he was paying by the hour. Leaving his place by the fireplace, Gato motioned for the girl to follow him as he went to an overstuffed recliner near the fireplace. After sitting down, he was given the chance to admire the girl's physique from a closer perspective than before, but he was careful not to waste as much time on his second look. He reached out and planted both hands firmly on the girl's waist, pulling her forward and onto his lap.

She was arranged her legs around him expertly. A little too expertly for his taste, but he wasn't going to complain about that yet, and chance ruining the scene that he was trying to bring together in his mind. Instead, he hooked a finger under the girl's down-turned chin and lifted her face to meet his when he asked, "How was school today?"

She smiled shyly at him, like she was supposed to, and replied with the answer that he had instructed when he arranged for the night's events. "Sen...Sensei beat me again, Daddy."

Gato reached to the side of the chair, trying to find the lever that controlled the angle of the chair so he could make himself more comfortable. His other hand was settled casually at the small of the girl's back, steadily applying pressure until she was forced to lean forward, closer to him. He made his voice stern to match with the scene as he ordered, "What did you do this time, honey?"

She shifted in his lap a little, trying to find a more comfortable position for herself while leaning back against him stubbornly. Still, she hesitated the correct amount of time before answering him, looking up at him serenely through a sooty pair of lashes. "I was in class..."

Gato laid his other hand on the girl's shoulder, playing with her collar while he listened to her. He pinched one loop of the bow between his thumb and forefinger, and watched her dark eyes travel toward it as she recited her lines. "I...I was..."

Gato smugly sent his other hand to the back of the girl's neck, pulling her forward again. This girl was turning out to be rather good at playing the part of an innocent schoolgirl, especially with the short amount of time she had been allowed to memorize it beforehand. In an amused voice, he asked, "What was that?"

"In c-class, I was...uh.."

The loose bow came undone with one lazy tug of Gato's fingers. As he let it slide from her neck to form a glossy heap on her lap, he felt her eyes intensify on his face for a moment. She blinked, looked down at the ribbon, the long bangs falling forward again and effectively hiding her face from view. Not that he needed to see it at the moment for the sake of her performance. Caressing the back of her head with the hand that had undone the bow, he let it follow the back of her neck to slip under her collar.

The girl shivered.

"I was d-daydreaming in class, Daddy."

"What about?"

"It was..." Head still turned downward, the girl trailed off. Her hands were folded in front of her, under the ribbon and on top of a sensitive part of his body that was _very _much enjoying the warmth her position was providing. But still, Gato pulled her closer, until her hands were forced to move onto his chest to keep her from losing balance. He kept one hand in her hair, sending the other to the front of the white shirt that was now straining to hold her breasts in. It was a size too small for the girl's bust, also by request. Catching a button between his thumb and index finger, he began twisting it gently as he prompted her, "Go on."

She shuddered as his fingers popped the button out of its slit.

"Daddy..."

He moved on to the next one, twisting it as well.

"Me, sweetheart?"

The second button gave way as easily as the first. The slits cut into the shirt were much larger than the buttons, which allowed them to come undone more easily than a real school uniform would allow. But Gato was more than willing to ignore that piece of minor information. He let his hand slither inside the opening, hearing the girl whimper feebly as her head turned to look at the wall. Her bangs were able to cover the majority of her face again. He frowned at that. There was nothing about avoiding eye contact in his fantasy.

He put one hand on her chin and forced it around, warning her by way of his tone as he chided in tune with his character, if not the script, "It's rude not to answer a question."

He almost had the pale girl's head turned toward him, but just as he was finishing his sentence, she pulled her chin out of his grasp. Glaring, he was about to snap at her for the insolent straying from her character, when her hips rocked forward suddenly. Hard. She repeated the movement, hands curling and uncurling on his chest every time her body passed over the erection pointing up toward her. He knew that she was trying to keep him for scolding her...and it worked. Especially with the two topmost buttons still open from only a few seconds ago and her cleavage heaving with her movements.

...He decided he could let her slip slide... though docking her pay seemed like a fair option for later in the evening.

Her fingers fisted in the extra fabric of his jacket, trying to find a decent hold and failing because of the thickness of the material. Head still down, she tried to stay in character by repeating her last line, "Daddy..."

The hand that had been on her chin was still hovering in the air, only a few inches from her face. It made to settle on her shoulder when one of hers darted out and captured it. After a second of gripping it in a disturbingly vicious grip, she brought it to the opening in her blouse, guiding it back to where it had originally been behind her neck. She let it rest there for a moment before skipping ahead in the script. She dragged Gato's hand slowly over her body, moving it down between her breasts, over her stomach, then across her hip and onto her thigh.

When he took control from her and moved his hands over her again on his own, she rubbed against him again deliberately, either by impulse or because she wanted to make up for her mistake earlier. Gato considered making the girl nervous by telling her flatly that he was taking at least fifty percent of her pay for her stray from the script, but decided to wait until later. He wanted to get back to the scene. He only said, "You've been acting rude_ much more than usual_ lately."

His only answer was a weak murmuring, something that sounded close to, "I'm sorry, Tou-san..."

He rewarded the girl with a smile, confident that the warning note in his voice had been caught and that the girl wouldn't cause anymore disturbances in his fantasy. To prove his control to himself as well as the girl, he reached out to hook a finger under her chin, lifting it to give himself a head-on view of the girl's face. Half-lidded dark eyes looked back at him.

His fingers began rubbing slow circles in tune with one another on her jaw and thigh. Occasionally, he let the one on her thigh travel further inward, coaxing the lithe body straddling him to raise itself up a little higher to provide better access. The girl obediently complied and responded to every touch as she was supposed to. Once again he pushed her forward so that she had to lay her hands flat against his chest for support. Following the shift in weight, the chair's back fell farther down on its own.

"Daddy..." she breathed.

"Is there something you want, sweetheart?"

"H-Hai, Taa-san, j-just..." she trailed off, a moan coming out of her instead as he began pushing the collar of her shirt aside to reveal one pale shoulder, "please..."

"What is it?"

Gato felt the girl's hands moving, crawling their way up from his chest to grip tightly at his own shirt collar. At the same time, his hand was moving under her leg again, stroking farther upward.

"You won't like it, Daddy."

"What's that?" he asked. Like before, an undertone slipped into his voice, one that made it much more clear that his patience with improve was thin. She was straying from his script again, when he had clearly said he wanted his night to go smoothly before when he talked with the girl's manager.

His hand was still working according to the old routine, dragging his fingers slowly along the length of her inner thigh as they went upward again. There was a damp, unprotected area there that he saw the girl's eyes widen when he traced with the tip of one finger. Well, at least she was still in character.

One hand grabbed onto his ear suddenly, while another wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers digging in almost painfully. He was surprised that a girl of her frame could have such a hard grip, but didn't linger on the thought. The girl let her head go down again. Gato could hear the sound of her panting as she began moving her hips again.

Gato decided to forget about the dialogue, apparently the girl wasn't that good of an actress after all. Wrapping one arm around her waist to keep her from pulling away, Gato stilled the girl's movements and unceremoniously shoved an impatient finger inside her.

She stiffened. He felt her hand on the back of his neck twitch and clench uncomfortably for a moment. He couldn't see her expression, and scowled at over the top of her head at the time it took her to adjust. He wanted to continue with his fantasy, regardless of whether she was "ready" or not. When girl's upper body finally leaned willingly onto his chest, the angle of her body suggested that she was deliberately trying to lifted herself ever so slightly away from him, despite the arm on her shoulder meant to keep her in place.

Her hair brushed against the underside of his jaw as she squirmed. He sent another finger inside her and began his exploration of the inner folds. He ignored the groan he heard from her, whether it was from distaste or pleasure. Her hand tightened on his ear, but in turn, he moved his other arm down to her waist and held on more firmly.

"Tou-san..." the girl's head brushed insistently against his neck, "please...I..."

Gato smirked to himself at the girl's hoarse tone. For a professional, she was very poor at customer service, it seemed. He pushed her down against his fingers and heard her suck in a breath against his throat. "Please what, sweetheart?"

Arms stiff, the girl pushed herself away from him just enough so that she was able to raise her head. Her eyes were closed, though her forehead was wrinkled in strain. "Daddy..."

Gato repositioned his fingers and twisted them, enjoying himself as her saw her expression changing.

Until her eyes opened.

He couldn't remember the exact color of the girl's eyes when she had come into his room. It was such a small detail...but he was sure, beyond all doubt, that he would have noticed a pair of bright red eyes earlier. Even if they were on a common whore. Both of the hands on Gato's head clutched him in a deathly tight grip, keeping him from turning away or pushing her off of him. The odd black spots in her eyes started spinning, even while a voice in the back of his head dully said that that was impossible. One's irises weren't capable of...

In a voice that was suddenly too deep to belong to a female, the girl reestablished her hold on him and deadpanned, "For the next twenty-four hours, you're going to be castrated by twelve year old girls, Daddy."

kkkkkkkkk

Itachi cringed when the face in front of him contorted first in panic, then pain as his Sharingan's instructions took effect. He didn't feel guilty for causing the pitiful expression on the grubby little man; he had used his special ability on countless people before without as much justification for relish. Itachi cringed because, as Gato's body spasmed before falling limp, he felt the unnerving sensation of fingers cruelly clawing inside him for a brief moment before they too, became limp.

He pulled himself off of the smaller body, ignoring the feeling of fat fingers sliding out of him. There was a mirror hanging on the wall directly across from where Itachi was standing, so that he couldn't help seeing his own disguised reflection before letting the henge go and switching back to his natural gender. Though, since the clothing wasn't included in the jutsu, the mirror tauntingly showed him a reflection of himself in his proper gender, still clad in the schoolgirl uniform that he and Kisame had taken from the original hooker.

For the life of him, Itachi couldn't remember why he agreed to this plan.

He waited a moment, watching the man lying on the recliner next to him twitch. Of course, he knew that the man wouldn't be waking up right away, having used his Sharingan multiple times before in his line of work, but he couldn't help wanting to see the man's eyes fly open so that he could throw a punch to knock him out again. He was known among their comrades and enemies for his apathetic mannerisms, but somehow feeling the man's grubby hands on him had managed to hit a disgusted note in him. He'd felt his Sharingan flair to life ahead of plan twice during his performance. Not that killing Gato would have been difficult, it might have actually even been the _slightest_ bit pleasurable for the Uchiha, but unfortunately, he had to restrain himself. Kisame needed time to take care of the bodyguards stationed throughout the hotel floors, elevator, and as they discovered on their way here, several of the surrounding street corners.

Apparently, this Gato was a very paranoid man.

Looking up at the mirror again, Itachi fought the urge to tug at the short skirt. He took a step forward, and then fought the urge to cringe as the garment moved against him. Not that he cared, but the fabric was swaying and caressing him in a way that was ever so slightly distracting from his mission, not to mention unspeakably irritating. The suppressed, more compulsive part of his personality was telling him to rip the uniform off, set it on fire, and then _run _to the nearest bathroom and ruthlessly scrub himself until he lost at least two layers of skin.

But naturally, he couldn't do that. For one thing, it would be very difficult explaining to Kisame what happened to his clothes.

Though, depending on the shark ninja's reaction...

Itachi stopped that train of thought before it could progress. He was on duty.

The air felt strange, though not completely uncomfortable, against Itachi's legs as he strode across the room. He was wasting time thinking when there was still a mission to carry out. Kisame was likely finished with the nearest guards, but there was still a chance that they could be spotted by others before escaping from the hotel.

Gato was a secondary concern in Itachi and Kisame's mission. They needed information that had not been offered to them by the Akatsuki's client beforehand – instead Kisame and Itachi had been given a name and told to go get the needed data themselves. And though methods had not been discussed, Itachi had a feeling that at some point while either reading or listening to Kisame's report, the Leader was going to be snickering at the extent of their undercover work.

The first place Itachi wanted to search for information was the desk. An obvious place, but from what he knew, Gato hadn't been aware that he was being watched by Akatsuki agents.

Itachi took two steps toward the designated furniture piece, before noticing a small, expensive looking frame propped up on the corner of the desk. The photograph it held showed the old man behind him with a pair of little girls, twins. Schoolgirls. The resemblances between the eight year old girls and Gato was strong enough to suggest a family relation, though the idea of any woman copulating with the man sprawled out on the recliner was sickening in itself. After several seconds of staring (a long time by his standards), he looked away from the picture in disgust, trying to focus on his mission again.

Itachi decided to turn to the shelf above the fireplace first instead. Purely because it was closer and would take less time, and not because the photograph combined with the memory of the old man's "script" was too disturbing to think about at once. So he flipped through the books that were stacked there, looking between the pages for any loose papers that might have held the information he needed. But it seemed there was nothing concerning his mission to be found there.

Turning around, he spotted a fully stocked bookcase on the opposite side of the room, but even the subconscious unease brought on by the experience of three minutes ago with Gato couldn't override the common sense of checking the desk first. As was already stated, the chances of Gato expecting a search on his room were slim at best. And checking the bookcase would take too long. If Itachi came to going through every volume on the bookcase, he would probably have to drag Kisame in and have him assist in the search, anyway.

The skirt mockingly caressed the uppermost areas on Itachi's legs as he approached the desk. It was a reminder to the fact that he was still made up as a schoolgirl-hooker. Though, on the positive side of that, if any remaining guards saw him dragging Kisame into a hotel room, they would think it was for entirely different reasons.

Itachi opened the top drawer of the desk and began sifting through the items inside. Unfortunately, the drawer was mostly empty, as most hotel furnishings were. There was a book for some religious group or another, a notepad (blank, he checked), and a few pens with the hotel's logo on them. Then in the second, there was nothing but a folder containing blueprints and reports on the progress of a bridge being built somewhere in the Wave Country, and another paper at the back that had multiple figures written on it for prices and sums that didn't affect his mission in the least. Itachi didn't bother looking at either too closely. Instead, he put the papers back in the order that he had found them and closed the drawer.

It was important that Gato did not notice anything out of place. Otherwise there was a chance that if he discovered the presence of outside shinobi, he would make the rest of the mission difficult. Not impossible, Itachi and Kisame were professionals after all, but Gato's tendency to hire whatever psychotic creature capable of slitting a human throat could make completing their mission considerably more bothersome.

There were only so many places that one could hide papers inside the hotel room. The bookshelf was still there, glaring at him from the corner, but there were other places to look first.

He turned around and went over to a trunk sitting at the foot of Gato's bed. He had spotted it when he first came in. There were very few bags in the room, because of which Itachi guessed that there was probably another location where Gato was supposed to be staying that night. But for some reason this trunk had been left in clear view of anyone who came in. Kneeling in front of it, Itachi quickly picked the lock on the lid and pushed it open.

The trunk's contents weren't dull, routine travel effects as he had expected in a worse case scenario...though...in a way, it was just as disappointing as a spare pair of shoes and shirts, if not the slightest bit disturbing. Inside the trunk there were obnoxiously brightly colored clothes, like a neon pink wild west styled shirt, electric blue chaps, spurs, and a yellow cowboy hat with matching studded boots.

There was a half-conscious thought in the back of Itachi's mind that mused that he had never see yellow studded cowboy boots before, but then Itachi's eyes fell on the coiled whip resting neatly on the bedside table for easy and quick access, and promptly decided that he didn't want to waste time musing or thumbing through the rest of the trunk's contents. Obviously, the document he was looking for was not kept in there.

Standing up and turning away from the trunk, Itachi looked over the room one more time. The bookcase was the only other piece of furniture, but just as he started to walk toward it, something occurred to Itachi. This man had _guards _outside his hotel room. That was a clear sign of paranoia. So maybe he would be crazy enough to carry papers on...?

Turning to the old man, Itachi saw that Gato was still twitching a little. It was rare for people not to fall directly into a death-like unconsciousness after entering their mental trauma, and even rarer for the occasional exception to last this long. Walking towards him, Itachi looked the short man over. His Sharingan had never failed him yet, and he didn't think that it would do so for the first time with this grubby little business man instead of a powerful ninja. Even if he hadn't attacked the little man with his usual intentions to destroy the working capabilities of his mind, the chances of him waking up weren't even considerable at this point.

When he was standing over Gato's body, he quickly located the pockets on the man's suit. With one hand he flicked the jacket open, face impassive as he pulled the folds aside and saw the bulk of the man's fat rolls being pushed up and out by the snug fit of his trousers. There was a vest worn underneath, adding two more pockets to his assumption, and then the possibility of another on the dress shirt underneath. Itachi almost glared at the garments. But he leaned over the smaller man's chest nevertheless, and laid his palms flat over either of the breast pockets. He didn't feel the tell-tale crinkle of paper, and after applying a little more pressure, assured himself that there likely wasn't anything in the pocket underneath.

Because of how often the man had insisted on having Itachi lean on his chest, he already knew that there were pockets on the inside of the jacket; he had felt solid objects that he highly doubted were parts of the doughy man's chest. The flaps of the jacket were laid out on either armrest, waiting for Itachi's inspection. The right hand pocket, the one farther away from where Itachi was standing, held nothing but an empty, leather-bound glasses case. Why the man wore sunglasses this late at night, indoors, and with incredibly dim lighting conditions, was another thing that he didn't spend much time wondering about.

He turned out the left pocket and found another leather case of sorts. But despite looking promising, when Itachi opened it he found only a vast amount of the Wave Country's currency. Had they actually been in the Wave Country, Itachi might have considered taking it, helping along his disguise as a common, dishonest whore, but since they weren't, he replaced it inside Gato's jacket.

Itachi glanced southward on Gato's body. There were no other pockets on the upper portion, and he was going to have to check all of Gato's person...

And then there was still the bookcase...

Pushing back on the chair, Itachi forced the recliner to hold Gato's body in a lying position. It would make searching him easier. The older man groaned in his sleep, making Itachi mentally debate the sense of just breaking his neck and getting the job done with faster. But no, he was Uchiha Itachi, and that meant being a little more professional than that.

He moved his hands up and down Gato's legs once, fingers branching out and feeling for any unusual stitches in places that could have held a folded piece of paper.

Gato made another noise.

Itachi sent up a glare at the unconscious form.

Straightening, the Uchiha tugged the edges of the jacket a little farther out of his way before bending over the man again. He dipped a hand into one of the front trouser pockets, noting with only the slightest tone of irritation that they really did go deep for such a short pair of pants. His arm slipped in halfway to his elbow before his finally touched the bottom of the pocket with his finger tip and pulled out. The other front pocket was just as deep, and just as empty save for an old candy wrapper and a clump of pocket lint.

That left two more. Rolling the man over, Itachi heard another, louder groan, and wondered if there was a chance that his touches were being warped by Gato's subconscious in his "dream." Itachi shoved the man absently in the side of his thigh as he pondered the possibility, noting the hiss that accompanied the movement before he had to get back to his search. He shoved aside the hem of Gato's jacket. The man whimpered loudly when Itachi laid his hand over one back pocket, pressing down as firmly as he had on the vest, feeling nothing inside it. He thought his felt the cheeks clench in discomfort. Itachi suppressed a shudder as he repeated his groping on the remaining pocket, which also made him inwardly twitch when he felt an object inside and pulled out a foil wrapped packet that he recognized after only a second of studying. He dropped it to the floor immediately after reading the words "Banana Flavored."

Itachi scowled to himself and was tempted to give the bastard's ass a hard slap just to hear the sound he made when it was translated into his nightmare by a random, murderous school girl. Now he only had one place left to search, but as his head turned to look at the dastardly bookcase, his eyes flickered over the mirror again, and his current, female attire. He decided that he was going to make good on his earlier promise to drag Kisame in to help him. As far as he was concerned, the shark nin had gotten the better job.

It was cold out in the hallway, but thankfully empty. Itachi had reinstated his earlier henge before leaving the room to be safe, but even when he technically was not walking around as a drag queen, he resented the idea of having his legs free for gawking by anything owning a cock that just happened to walk by. In his personal opinion, he got enough stares from all the wrong people walking down the street as a fully dressed male.

Locating Kisame was relatively easy, even with his chakra hidden. For one thing, most people in the hotel were asleep at the current time, or at least participating in whatever late night activates they favored in their rooms. And also, Kisame was patrolling the halls to make sure that anyone who had seen the schoolgirl go into Gato's room would not be around to see "her" come out. Itachi only needed to walk to the end of the hall and start to turn the corner when he heard an amused voice behind him.

"Do I _want_ to know what took you?"

Turning around, Itachi glared at his partner, telling him silently that the suggestive tone was not appreciated in the least.

Kisame was grinning at him, the same cheeky grin that he had blatantly used the moment he saw Itachi slip into the plaited skirt. Anyone else who knew Itachi would have immediately sobered. But, Kisame spent too much time around him for the clearly displeased look he was receiving to take effect. Chuckling and forcing his attention up to Itachi's face, he said, "So did you find it?"

"No." Itachi shifted his weight, watching Kisame's face. Unlike Gato, Kisame's eyes didn't dart downward to drool over the exposed skin. When Kisame looked over his body, he was reveling in the novelty of seeing his frigid partner dressed as a corrupt school teacher's wet dream.

Itachi glared at the observation. Without a word he started walking down the hall, tugging on his partner's cloak when he walked by to let him know that he wanted to be followed. Kisame was probably the only male with working eyes that didn't watch the backs of his legs as he led him back into the hotel room.

Kisame was standing by the door when he turned around. Itachi started to motion toward the bookcase, but stopped when he noticed that Kisame was standing directly next to the old pair of sandals that he had been wearing when he came into the hotel room. And the lacy panties draped carelessly over them. They had belonged to the hooker, of course... But Kisame only had to look down to see...

Snapping himself back, Itachi cleared his throat and said, "The bookcase is the only place left to look."

"You brought me in here to search a _bookcase?"_

"Hn." Itachi sent his partner another glare, which might have come out a little less fierce than his earlier one by the fact that he was inwardly begging the shark nin not to look down. Really, next time Kisame could be the schoolgirl...

Kisame shook his head, and looked over Itachi once more. His mouth pulled into a grin despite the death glare that was already angled at him when he walked across the room to where the bookcase stood against the wall. Itachi stood next to him, waiting for Kisame to step aside so that he could start looking through the books as well. However, Itachi's mild annoyance turned to pure irritation when the first, randomly chosen book his partner picked off the shelf, after Itachi had searched the desk, the trunk, and even the grubby little man's person, dislodged a double folded piece of paper that someone had clearly shoved between the books for safe keeping. It fluttered to the ground, landing between them with a barely audible _pat_.

Kisame smiled superiorly.

Itachi still wanted to kill the old man out of spite.

kkkkkkkkk

Kisame and Itachi stopped only once before leaving for their next destination. Itachi, now dressed in his proper Akatsuki uniform and slowly adding the night's earlier events to the darkened corner of his mind to reside with other memories that would never be relived, paused to toss the schoolgirl uniform into a rusted trash bin on the outskirts of the village. When they started moving again, Kisame turned a playful grin in his direction and asked, "You sure you don't want to keep that?"

Itachi sent him a glare, though his partner couldn't see it in the darkness as they left civilization.

Afterwards, there was very little spoken between them as they made their way toward the Wave Country. Which, of course, was normal for Itachi. But Kisame was an entirely different story. Itachi snuck coveted glances at his partner during their walk, half expecting to be caught staring and half unsurprised to see the shark nin staring mutely ahead every time. Usually Kisame was more than willing to talk to the point where Itachi wondered if the shark shinobi wasn't trying to attract ambushes out of boredom. And despite the fact that right now they were in hurry to get out of Gato's village, the silence was still unusual. Distracting, even. It almost made Itachi want to ask if something had happened, but of course he wasn't going to. For one thing, Itachi knew for a fact that nothing unusual had happened to his partner during their last vacation, and for another, Itachi starting a conversation would have only made his comrade concerned for _him_ instead. So, the lack of conversation endured.

The information they had gotten from Gato gave them specific dates and locations for their real target, and also brought with it the sudden discovery that the best opportunity to carry out their mission was in less than five hours. Luckily, the journey wasn't an unreasonably long one. Gato must have been on his way to the Wave Country when they were tracking him, because the village he had chosen to indulge himself in was very close to the country's coastline. The most difficult part of their trip was getting a boat to take them out to the islands that made up the country, and then trying to stay alert through the mostly uneventful voyage.

After docking, the tracking of their target had been only slightly less easy than Itachi had originally thought it would be. The island's residents were for the most part still asleep by the time they arrived, the sky still being dark enough to be considered night by civilians that did not own clocks. And, knowing that even in a pitifully poverty ridden village it was not good to be seen by locals, which included the pack of old fishermen starved to the point of delirium that slept along the docks, they slipped into the surrounding wooded area as quickly as possible.

Kisame and Itachi split up, just enough so that they couldn't be seen together while scouting out the forestland. They stayed within hearing distance, though, roughly. The island was small enough to permit it.

But their searching didn't last long. Sharingan activated and enhancing his eyesight, Itachi spotted a movement up in the trees within the first hour. Though it was more by turning his head at just the right time than actually sensing his target's presence, Itachi was able to track the other ninja's movements. He pretend not to have seen anything, casually walking around the outskirts of the village and knowing that the boy was watching him curiously from where he was hiding. He waited for him to come close, like an animal one encounters in the middle of nowhere, before attacking.

It was when he actually attempted an attack on his target that the mission lost its simplicity. Itachi had used his eyes to stick targets plenty of times before...but he was abruptly brought into the knowledge that Akatsuki, out of all mercenary ninja, had been asked to hunt down this boy for a reason. The kid was _fast. _No sooner had Itachi snapped his head around to pin the boy with the same Sharingan technique he used on Gato, the boy had already jumped out of range.

The trees ruffled a little, indicating that his target had been at least startled before moving. Itachi had to go in after him, despite thinking that the idea of chasing another nin in general was pointless. Why do it if they were just going to have to fight again after uselessly expending energy?

Three minutes into the chase, another factor came to his attention when his target darted sharply to one side, forming a large U. Another three minutes going in the new direction, the turn repeated itself. The boy was staying in the same basic area, running back and forth around the outer edges of the island town as if he had something to wait for. After that observation became known, Itachi knew that he could control his target's direction if he began subtly herding him, and possibly force him into a location where Itachi would have the advantage. But a moment after making his discovery, Itachi discovered that he might not have bothered. His target reached the end of his boundary again, and made to curve back around to lead Itachi back around. But as he darted sideways, between heavily laden tree branches, he ran directly into the path of Itachi's shark-like partner.

The boy came up short for a moment, and behind him Itachi slowed down, sensing the careful mask that had been put over his partner's extensive chakra signature. He was on the rise uphill from where Itachi and the boy were standing, the light making Kisame's form into a dark silhouette, and after only a split second pause, their target ran straight for it.

"Za..." The boy started to say what Itachi was sure was the beginning of someone's name, but it was cut off when the disillusioned boy came close enough to see that whoever he had hoped to see, Kisame was clearly not him.

But their target found out too late. The boy started to turn, saw Itachi right behind him, and hesitated to change directions a moment too long. Kisame's fist made solid contact with the place directly between the boy's neck and shoulder, knocking him unconscious instantly. Of course, since the boy was masked, Itachi couldn't see if the attack had worked until he saw their target's small body fall limply forward.

Kisame shot him another teasing smile as he bent forward and gathered their target into his arms.

Itachi grunted in annoyance. Apparently despite being put on edge because of their mission, Kisame was still executing his part of their job perfectly.

By now it was too late for them to leave the island. Dressed the way they were, there was no way that they would not attract attention if they went into town, even if they weren't carrying an unconscious teenager with them. But staying on the island brought a different threat to their mission: their target had a partner. They had been duly warned about a largely built swordsman before they left to follow Gato. Though, since he hadn't come to help his partner during the chase, it was unlikely that he was anywhere nearby.

Kisame and Itachi decided that it was best to move farther away from the village in case of surprise attacks from the before mentioned partner. They had captured their target. The only thing that could spoil their mission now was unwanted attention coming their way between now and when they slipped back into the village to bribe another half-starved fisherman into taking them back to the mainland after nightfall.

They bound the boy's hands behind him as an extra measure of protection in case the boy awakened before then. When they decided on a place that seemed remotely safe, Kisame unceremoniously deposited the unconscious body on the leaf strewn ground and knelt beside him. The boy was rolled onto his stomach, a quiet groan emerging as he went.

Itachi turned around and leaned his back leisurely against a tree to watch as his partner's hands began roving over their target's body, feeling along the boy's sides and down the backs of his legs for odd points. It was a normal procedure, checking their captive's body for any weapons that could be used in an escape attempt. Still, Itachi's eyes stayed focused on the blue hands as they trailed along the fifteen year old's arms and back, removing freakishly large needles as he found them. At one point, Kisame lifted the boy up and held him off the ground, almost cradling him to keep the bound white hands from being crushed under the body's weight as he checked the other side.

Under the abundant sleeves of his Akatsuki cloak, another white set of hands twitched, unseen by Kisame as he raked his over their target's chest for any unusual bumps or stitches, simpler to how Itachi had searched Gato earlier. Only Kisame had to repeat the procedure again due to the multiple layers of loose clothing their target was wearing, feeling and stroking every hollow and curve of the unconscious boy's body.

When Kisame glanced up at him, possibly feeling the other's eyes on him, he didn't think anything was out of the ordinary. Itachi's expression was murderous half of the time anyway, when it wasn't blank.

The needles seemed to have been the boy's only weapon. Like the partner, Kisame and Itachi had been warned about needle attacks during the briefing before accepting the mission, though neither had expected them to be the boy's _only _weapons. How could someone be a shinobi using a weapon with such a low fatality rate? Perhaps the boy's partner carried other weapons for the both of them, though that method seemed ridiculous. Especially if they were going to be separated from each other long enough for the masked boy to be captured by hunter nins, or in this case, Akatsuki agents.

Though, Itachi thought to himself as his eyes stayed focused on the other missing nin, Kisame was probably relieved that the boy had been alone on the island. Before leaving home base, the shark nin had bluntly stated that he did not want any confrontations with the boy's partner if it could be avoided. Personally, Itachi was sure that with the boy unable to fight and both Kisame and Itachi present, the unwanted party wouldn't have been able to cause any problems. But for some reason, Kisame made it clear that he wanted to do their job as quietly as possible. He didn't give any details why, and pressing for them simply wasn't something that Itachi did.

From what they had been told before accepting the mission, the boy had been a missing nin for years before someone finally noticed him, and even then an exact identity hadn't been uncovered. He pretended to be a hunter nin, capturing and re-capturing the same man over the last four years while pretending to be a member of the Mist's extinguishing squad. That had been how he was eventually discovered. Rumors eventually reached the Mist's council about the death of an exiled ninja, without a report being handed in, or a head brought back as proof. Someone on the council had finally figured it out: the exiled Mist nin was in league with a false member of the extinguishing squad. Which was what brought them to hiring Akatsuki to hunt down the hunter nin impersonator. Though, considering the Mist's tendency to kill their exiled shinobi at any opportunity and Kisame's membership of the organization, Itachi guessed that it was a private request made by only one member of the council rather than an official decision to hire notorious missing nin to take care of their problem.

The mission was only to bring back the impersonator. The boy's partner was still an exiled nin, and one that the Water Country was aware of and insisted it could hunt down without help, whereas the boy pretending to be a hunter nin was a mystery that they wanted solved as quickly and as quietly as possible. All the same, the Akatsuki were also told that _if _the boy's partner got in the way, killing him could be over looked. Though, their idea of "looked over" included doubling their pay.

Itachi didn't care either way. But then there was Kisame, insisting that they could get the job done just fine without so much as glancing at Momochi Zabuza.

Kisame finally lowered their target's body to the ground, weapon check complete. There was a surprisingly large pile of needles on the forest floor beside the shark nin, which he made sure to move out of the unmoving body's reach in case the boy woke up sooner than expected. Then Kisame stood up and carefully unstrapped the Samheda, leaning it against a tree as he asked over his shoulder, "Are you alright with taking the first watch?"

Itachi blinked, bringing himself out of staring at his partner and renewing his interest in his ears. He shrugged indifferently in response, despite the fact that he hadn't slept himself in two days. He watched Kisame make himself comfortable on the forest floor. Their target, disarmed and still masked, was lying curled up just a short arm's distance away.

There were five minutes of silence afterward, only broken by the sound of birds waking up in the trees overhead. It was normally difficult for any ninja to fall asleep outside. After all, one was far more likely to be discovered by enemy ninja while he was unconscious and out in the open than inside a cheap hotel room. But Itachi noted that his partner was sleeping peacefully after a minute or two had passed. Itachi had noticed a change in his partner's sleeping habits since accepting the retrieval mission. The reason that Kisame was able to fall asleep so easily now could likely be credited to their target's capture, and the assurance that their mission would be over in a matter of hours, once they left the Wave Country behind them and started back toward the Akatsuki base with their captive. In the meantime, Kisame was likely exhausted.

There was a twinge in the back of Itachi's mind that told him he should have been a bit more concerned about his partner's health, but it was overridden quickly. Sure, Kisame was from the same village as their targets, but it wasn't the first time that their work had required them to hunt down Mist nins. And if Kisame knew someone, he usually said so, even without Itachi asking. It helped to have personal information about a target beforehand.

Itachi pushed all thoughts about their mission to the side as his eyes focused on the space between his partner and their captive. A short, almost non-existent space. Eyes narrowing, he took a step toward the sleeping shark-like shinobi. He walked carefully, so not to break a single dried leaf as he went to crouch down next to the larger missing nin.

Their target's deep breathing assured him that the boy was still as dead to the world around him as Kisame himself. Itachi's ears became more alert as he listened once more for any sounds of approaching ninja or civilians. They were alone...It was at time like this, that his obsession managed to override him.

kkkkkkkkkkk

Sometime around when Itachi began growing his hair out and looking at different kinds of skin lotion, he discovered that a very important part of his upbringing had been skipped over.

As a child, he had been exceptionally bright. Enough so that he was quickly whisked through school and pitched head first into the ninja world before reaching the age of seven. And as it happened, he was taken out of his graduating level Academy class, after already being a six year old working among twelve year olds, exactly three weeks before the teachers separated the girls and the boys into different classrooms to explain the wonders of their genders. Though considering Itachi's age, the educators might have decided not to have put him in the boy's group anyway. But by the time that he _was_ twelve and considered physically, as well as mentally old enough for "the talk," he was already at a status as a ninja that a full grown man might spend his entire career working to achieve. And his father, as well as all other older males in Itachi's life, conveniently failed to notice the fact that he _wasn't _a fully grown man. So Itachi had to find out about the wonders and horrors of teenage hormones by, for lack of a better term, stumbling blindly in the dark. Literally.

Itachi had already undergone hearing his voice change and seeing hair begin growing in new places before he left the Leaf, thus helping his family to excuse the fact that no one had bothered to warn him about the other part of "becoming a man" before they were all killed. The exact night that Itachi learned what no one else had thought to tell him, he had been on a mission in the Lightning Country with his older partner. And befitting the country's name, a thunderstorm had started up before they rented a room in the most inconspicuous hotel they could find. Kisame went to bed immediately, tired from the rush to find accommodations before the rain caught them. But Itachi, after spending two nights in a row trekking through the countryside, wanted a shower. And his luck would just so have it that after he turned off the walk and was about to get out of the shower stall, a particularly close rumble of lighting sounded, which was quickly followed by the sudden shutting down of the bathroom lights.

He had stood there, one hand still reaching in and holding onto the water nozzle, with nothing but a towel around his shoulders. He couldn't see where he had left his clothes. For a minute, he thought that maybe the lights would come back on, but he became impatient after noting from the dropping temperature that the heater must have given out along with the electricity. The cold air seeped into his damp, uncovered skin as he decided that trying to walk out onto the tile floor, after he had already been standing still and letting water drip off of his own body, was ridiculous. Even the most idiotic of ninjas wouldn't be stupid enough to wander around in the dark on a wet tile floor (though he might have changed his mind if he were to look into the future and meet his little brother's future blonde haired teammate, but that's not a part of this story at all). So after a brief moment of debate, Itachi decided that it would be better to forget about his clothes. Kisame might snicker when he noticed his partner was naked in the morning, but it wasn't anything usual.

Thus thinking, the surprisingly naive fourteen year old killer wrapped his towel snuggly around his waist and turned to leave. By feeling along the wall, he was able to locate the door within a matter of minutes, and opened it to go out into the bedroom. Unfortunately, the only thing that told him when he had passed into the other room was the change from tile to carpet under his feet. The bedroom's lighting was just as dark as in the bathroom. Pushing away from the wall, he squinted stubbornly into the darkness despite the fact that there was no light to begin with and thus nothing for his eyes to adjust to. He tried to picture the layout of the room from memory, determined to find his own bed without stumbling or crashing into anything in a way that would leave him with uncomfortable bruises to travel with the next day.

He was out in the darkness for nearly fifteen minutes, taking painfully small steps with his arms set out in front of him so that he would know about any sudden large, blunt objects in his path. When his outstretched fingers finally brushed against a soft surface, he felt along the top of it to make sure that it was indeed the blankets covering his bed and not a tablecloth, before climbing onto it. He crawled to the head of the bed, quickly pulling back the covers and sinking contentedly into the mattress, damp towel and all. After spending the past few days traveling through rather difficult landscapes, drowsiness overtook him quickly, coaxing his eyelids to close...Then he felt it.

His eyes snapped back open immediately, hand clenching under the pillow, and inwardly cursing when he remembered that there wasn't a kunai there for him to take out. The one that he usually kept with him was in the bathroom, sitting on the counter beside his clothes. The infamous _it_ had been a very obvious shift on the bed, and _it _had definitely not been made by him.

Despite what others may or may not have thought, Uchiha Itachi was very capable of panic when he was a fourteen year old boy, naked and unarmed, in the same bed as a possible hunter nin or ANBU member that had finally managed to track either him or his partner down for their native villages. Itachi's eyes opened a little wider as a thought came to him: what if Kisame had already been killed? The Mist had a tendency to kill their targets on the spot, and though less brutal, Itachi knew the Leaf certainly wouldn't have hesitated to slaughter a missing nin from a different village in his sleep.

Itachi felt another shift, a little closer to where he was laying. If he kicked back his leg, he might have been able to hit the stranger in the calf, or maybe higher and startle them. Itachi's Sharingan was useless if his attacker couldn't even see it, but maybe if he turned around now he could catch his attacker by surprise, or...

Itachi's whole body jerked at once when he felt another shift in the mattress. He heard a murmur from somewhere behind him, followed by yet another shift, bringing the stranger close enough for the warmth of his body to radiate into Itachi's skin. The Uchiha's body tensed for the attack he knew would be coming, fist clenching under his pillow again, prepared to lash out at the first chance. He was just weighing the chances of strangling the possible hunter nin if he turned around now, when he felt a warm weight snake around his midsection from behind.

Itachi froze in mid thought. His hands shot to the arm on impulse, intending the to rip it away from him, possibly even break his attacker's wrist if possible. But then he felt the warm, familiar roughness to the skin's texture.

He _knew _who that unusual kind of skin belonged to.

"Kisame?" Itachi was pleased to hear that his voice came out in its normal, if not slightly annoyed, tone. If it gave away even the tiniest hint of how nervous he had been a second ago, the shark nin would have felt the fist under Itachi's pillow make contact with his body in a physical expression of the aforementioned annoyance. He knew from the route that they were forced to take around the normal road that they were going to be traveling on foot for a long time with nothing to keep the former Mist nin entertained _but _teasing. And Itachi preferred not to provide material for it.

There was no sound in response his partner's name, save for what came from rain hitting against the windowpane outside, and the steady breathing of the other shinobi. Kisame was asleep. Itachi's hand relaxed a bit on his partner's. He must have just walked into the wrong bed when he came out of the bathroom. Not that it would have been hard to do. It was dark, after all.

He lay there in his partner's arms for a moment, thinking. He should have gotten up immediately to follow the wall to find the other bed, but just as Itachi was telling his muscles to move, he stopped. It had been three months since the first night off, when he had followed Kisame around the civilian city. He still had a clear memory of sniffing through the second nameless, black haired man's apartment until he heard the sound of footsteps from inside the bedroom, and had to run as if his life depended on it to find Kisame's apartment and dive into the bed to be there before his partner came home. Though, Itachi ended up falling asleep while watching the red numbers on the shark nin's alarm clock before that happened. Kisame must have gone to see another one of his friends on the way back to his apartment. So now, lying in bed with his partner more or less holding him, the fourteen year old couldn't help but wonder...What exactly did Kisame do at the people's houses? Was this it? Itachi began to frown as his mind followed the train of thought. Sure, he and Kisame lost sleep on some of their missions, but he found it hard to believe that it would make Kisame want to sleep with so many people during the night. Especially if he was going to try to sleep with two or three before finally going back to his own apartment and sleeping by himself almost throughout the entire next day. Then start the routine over again the next ni...

Itachi stopped in mid thought again for the same reason as before. He felt another shift on the bed. He laid perfectly still, waiting for it to pass, while Kisame's arm wrapped itself more firmly around him, pulling their bodies more closely together. With a sudden shiver, Itachi noticed Kisame's head come up directly behind his. He could feel the ex-Mist nin's exhales ghosting over the back of his neck as his nose burrowed unabashedly into his hair. A moment later, Itachi gave up trying to think of a reason why his arms were suddenly breaking out with goose bumps at the feeling. It was just Kisame, breathing on a part of his body that was normally covered and therefore unused to contact with anything other than the occasional scratch from his own hand. Rooting that explanation in his head, Itachi went about trying to disentangle himself. One hand going down to keep his towel in place and the other bracing itself against the mattress to lift him up, he started to move away from his partner's sleeping form. Until a second arm darted forward through the gap that formed between his neck and the mattress, and wrapped itself firmly around his shoulders. Itachi had barely moved more than an inch. And now he was trapped with his partner's chest rising and falling against his back.

The possibility of Kisame actually being awake crossed Itachi's mind as he lay, unresisting, in his partner's arms. But just as he was trying to pull himself away to check, the arm on his waist tightened, pulling him back down. Kisame murmured something sleepily into his neck, lips almost brushing against Itachi's skin, and forcing another involuntary shiver to break out.

"Kisame?" Itachi said more loudly than before. He was rapidly coming to the decision that he wanted to get up, now. He could still hear the rain pounding down at full force, but he was getting uncomfortably warm. Kisame must have left too many blankets on the bed, and then he had Kisame's body heat seeping into his skin from behind. A very thin sheen of sweat was already forming on the Uchiha heir's delicate, pale forehead as he tried to force himself to relax under the heat and wait until his partner's grip loosened. But, damnit, Kisame didn't seem effected by it at all!

Itachi sent one of his hands behind him to Kisame's chest, intending to push away, forgetting the decision to stay put, but that only brought a sudden realization to Itachi's attention that he should have noticed sooner. Kisame was topless. Bare chested, Kisame was pressing himself into Itachi's equally unclothed back. Painfully aware of how his body was reacting to the situation, Itachi let his hand slide a little lower...just in case he didn't notice anything else missing...

Thankfully, Itachi's fingertips encountered a soft, loose material just above the other missing nin's hipbone. It was thin, but nevertheless, it was another layer separating him from Kisame other than the flimsy towel. Itachi almost breathed a sigh of relief.

Forcing his head to lie flat against the pillow, Itachi tried to tell himself again to relax. But, since his body wasn't used to the feeling of something warm and breathing pressed so closely behind him, it refused to obey his command. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing an urge to fidget, all the while thinking that maybe he had caught a fever of some kind while they were traveling, and that maybe that was why the sheets were sticking to his body. Kisame wasn't sweating at all, and his breathing was still coming out normally.

Kisame, even in sleep it seemed, was still good at picking up on Itachi's discomfort. And, even more horrifying to the younger missing nin, he was still extremely talented at increasing it. Kisame began stroking the hand on Itachi's stomach up and down in a sleepy, absent-minded rhythm. Up and down, up and down.

Itachi tried to back away from the unwelcome touch, but only succeeded in pressing himself more firmly against Kisame's chest. The hand followed him, trapping him there and causing warmth to coil in his stomach with its slow continued movements. Itachi heard himself smothering a whimper as the curious warmth grew under his partner's touch, crowding up his stomach and then having to move lower, into...

The fourteen year old Uchiha's eyes grew round.

Kisame's lips moved against the back of his neck again, murmuring something unintelligible and tightening his arms briefly, before settling back into a dead weight on the smaller frame.

Itachi was still staring wide eyed into the darkness. He felt...something... Itachi swallowed. No, he had to have been imagining things. There was no way...Well, _he_ had definitely never heard of... Shaking slightly, Itachi's right and only free hand because of how Kisame was holding him, slid down to the front of the towel.

His eye size continued to grow when he felt _solid _proof that he wasn't hallucinating. With Kisame's head still buried in his hair, Itachi carefully moved the front of the towel aside, just to make sure...the instant sensation made him hiss loudly. If Kisame had been awake, he would have doubtlessly heard the sound. However he wasn't and Itachi's fingers felt wonderingly along the curiously sensitive flesh, teeth digging into his lower lip to muffle any sound. Maybe...maybe he _had _caught something when they were traveling.

His experimentation was cut short by Kisame's hand moving again. He must have felt the way Itachi's body jerked suddenly when his hand wrapped tightly around the swollen member on his body. The ensuing sensation wasn't what he was expecting. He let out a loud gasp, and then felt Kisame's hand move again, more slowly than before, but that didn't matter. Itachi thought he tasted blood on his tongue as he renewed the strength in his teeth, biting on his lip, even while his body responded to the platonic touch. His eyes became half lidded as his self control dwindled down and his hand began moving faster on his cock. Another whimper came out of his mouth as he began to feel a desperate ache begging to be sated.

His breathing picked up as his hips began jerking along with his hand. Vaguely, he was aware that he was hitting Kisame's stomach every time he rocked back, but his attention span was shrinking too quickly for him to care. It was getting uncomfortable, and the faster he tried to satisfy himself, the more the ache grew.

His towel had long since been pushed off his hips completely, either because of his movements or Kisame's hand accidentally pushing it aside. He didn't remember. At one point, Kisame's hand stopped its movements, and Itachi was just able to catch himself before ramming his elbow into the other missing nin's side to make him start again. If Kisame woke up, he might have made Itachi stop whatever it was he was doing.

Itachi's eyes squeezed shut as he made his grip harsher, moving forward repeatedly. He could faintly hear the sound of the springs under him creaking from his movements, and his own rapid breathing. The sweat on his body was making the sheet cling to him again. Wherever his towel had gone to, he didn't care. Whatever he was thinking about that made him so damn uncomfortable before was gone as his mind grew slower and his body's rhythm faster until...

"...nhhg...ahh!"

Itachi's mind went blank, and for a moment he thought that the electricity had come back as behind his eyelids he saw a sudden, startling white. It was a moment before he realized that his hand had stopped moving, and that there was something other than sweat sticking to the sheets and his palm. He couldn't see his hand when it was directly in front of his face, but he tried sniffing the strange substance, and frowned at the foreign scent. He had smelled it before, or something similar to it. Once, when he was a very small child and crawled into his parents' bedroom in the middle of the night. Though, why would...?

Kisame's arms were still present around his person, as Itachi discovered when he tried to sit up. He was forced to admit that even when asleep, the shark nin still had the superior grip.

Frowning again, Itachi turned around in his partner's hold. Halfway through the act, he was reminded of the fact that he was now lying in his partner's arms, completely and totally naked. And that his partner was holding him very, very close. Itachi's breathing hitched as he turned around and felt warm, rough skin against his still sensitized body. The only movement against it was the simple rise and fall of the shark nin's breathing, but it was enough to make the organ twitch.

Itachi swallowed.

Placing his one free hand one Kisame's shoulder and shaking it lightly, Itachi hissed, "K..._Kisame?"_

There was no response, other than a slight shifting of weight, as Kisame's stomach moved, completely oblivious of his hormone-ridden partner, or the semi-hard cock that was being ever so slightly rubbed by the movements. The hand on the blue-skinned ninja tensed at the minor friction.

Kisame settled back into a death-like sleep.

"Kisame," Itachi made his voice a bit louder. Kisame's head was only a few inches away from his own, and only that way because Itachi had pulled himself as far back as the older shinobi's grip would allow. He tried shaking Kisame's shoulder again, thinking in the back of his mind that for a ninja, Kisame was a severely deep sleeper. But when he thought that he was going to be doomed to hopelessly rubbing against his blue-skinned partner until he finally woke up in the morning, the shark nin's body stiffened. Maybe the older ninja's subconscious finally registered the growing erection poking into his stomach area, because a moment later, Itachi felt his partner's grip abruptly loosen, and then heard Kisame mumble what sounded like, "...not now...headache..."

Itachi's eyes darted upward, in the general direction of his partner's face, but couldn't see anything because of the lack of light. A moment later the arm that had been lying across his waist moved as Kisame rolled over. Itachi stiffened one more time when a hand unknowingly caressed his naked hip as it moved away. Kisame moved onto his side without waking up. Or if he did, he pretended not to.

Itachi was left staring at the black shape in front of him that might have been his partner's back, sticky hand held off the bed because he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it, and the beginning of an unsatisfied hard on.

As if mocking him, there was a flash of thunder outside five minutes later, and the lights flickered back on inside the tiny hotel room.

kkkkkkkkkk

Itachi decided that Kisame _must _have been exhausted the night before he woke up after Itachi's _experience_. The shark nin seemed more amused by the fact that his fourteen year old partner was curled up on the edge of his bed than the fact that the Uchiha was naked, and seemingly very agitated about something or other. Itachi had glared at every word that came out of the older shinobi's mouth and became inexplicably aware of the principles of personal space over the next few months following. Nevertheless, whenever they encountered a thunderstorm during their travels, Kisame grinned when he thought Itachi wasn't watching. Apparently, the idea of his younger partner being too terrified of lightning to stay in his own bed offered a boundless source of amusement for the former Mist shinobi.

Itachi didn't say anything against it when they woke up in the same bed, too grateful for the fact that the other missing nin was too busy snickering to notice any incriminating stains left on the sheets.

In the present, Itachi was much more aware of his partner's tendency to cuddle anything that radiated warmth. Which was precisely why, as he reached out to move the shark-like ninja, his eyes fell on the unmoving form of their young target in a steel edged almost glare. He brushed his partner's cloak aside gently, knowing that he could get a better hold on the shirt underneath while he rolled the larger man onto his back. The chances of Kisame reaching out and grabbing onto their target's unsuspecting body were fewer with the shark nin lying on his side facing the opposite direction, though since the Kisame was not sprawled out on a bed, it had been unlikely to begin with. A voice in the back of Itachi's head hissed that he was being uncharacteristically paranoid. It went unanswered.

Itachi had discovered soon after he discovered his favorite and only hobby that Kisame never stayed the night with his acquaintances. Ever. It was possible that no one else knew about the shark nin's habit, and he intended to insure that that fact remained so. Looking over the slightly enhanced space between his partner and their target, he considered moving the younger boy as well. Just in case he turned out to be a cuddler too.

His hand lay possessively on Kisame's chest while he glowered at the boy. Dead silence was all the he received in return, their captive still lying on his back with his masked face staring blankly at him. After a minute of childishly engaging in a staring match with the red and white design (it was a good thing no one was around to see), it occurred to Itachi that he should probably remove the mask. With it on, he wouldn't be able to see if the boy suddenly woke up. Though even as that thought went through his mind, another one unfolded with it...

Hadn't the boy been facing the other way before?

Abruptly, Itachi snatched his hand from Kisame's chest, eyes staying on their captive's face. He wondered for a moment whether it would be a good idea to wake Kisame up, but quickly excused it. He wasn't _that _paranoid yet, was he?

Reaching across his sleeping partner, Itachi decided that the easiest way to get around his discomfort would be to prove to himself that he was just thinking too much. That had never happened before, but it was possible. He had probably just gone too long without sleep.

He braced one arm next to Kisame's shoulder and leaned over, intent on getting the mask off the boy quickly. Masks worn by ANBU and other high rank shinobi were only held on by thin, clear threads that were barely visible to anyone who was not standing directly in front of the wearer. Why they were used was a mystery, especially since when tracking down and attacking an enemy, one hardly stopped to admire the straps holding their attacker's mask in place. They were also extremely frail when one deliberately tried to snap them. But as Itachi leaned across his partner to reach their captive, Kisame did exactly the same thing he had that night during the blackout in the Lightning Country: he rolled over. Right into Itachi's arm.

The Uchiha's upper body fell suddenly downward, crashing into Kisame's torso. His arm straightened against the ground as an added effect, shoving his hand roughly into the masked boy's face. Itachi heard a pained yelp, and knew that if the boy hadn't been awake a few minutes ago, he definitely was now. At the same time, a groan came up from Kisame at the sudden weight falling onto his chest.

Kisame was awake instantly with his younger partner sprawled across him; one hand flew impulsively to the back of Itachi's cloak, ready to pull him off in the split second of surprise before recognition set in. It was by far the most ungraceful move that Itachi had ever made. He pulled himself back into a sitting position, turning a look on the other missing nin that bluntly announced that if the next words out of his mouth sounded even faintly taunting, someone was going to die quickly, possibly with their last living memories being filled with murderous, blood-thirsty schoolgirls.

"Itachi...?" Kisame, still lying on the ground, raised an eyebrow when their eyes locked. Itachi knew from the extra heat he felt in his cheeks that his face was flushed. But of course, that was only because that's what happened when one's stomach slams into something solid very quickly.

Really.

"Where is Zabuza-san?"

The boy, by a random act of sympathy, or just plain coincidence, chose that moment to draw attention to himself. He was still lying on the ground, on his stomach, with his hands bound tightly behind his back while his chest and shoulders strained to lift themselves high enough off the ground to give him a decent view of his captors. Kisame likely didn't have a chance to remember that they had a captive, too busy trying to keep himself from grinning at the rare reddish tint to his partner's face. However, they both knew who did the talking in their partnership.

"Didn't he ever tell you not to name your partner in front of the enemy?"

Itachi released a breath that he hadn't been aware of holding when Kisame shifted into a sitting position beside to him and obligingly focused on the boy instead of on the matter of how he had been woken up.

Standing, Itachi dusted the bits of dried leaves off his clothing. Stalking away from his partner, Itachi went to stand with his back leaning against the same tree as before. He could hear the boy shifting on the ground behind him. Unusually polite for someone who had just woken up to find himself at the mercy of two clearly unfriendly strangers (the Akatsuki cloak wasn't exactly hard to recognize), he said, "Gomen. How about 'Am I still on the island?'"

Turning his head slightly to watch the exchange, Itachi saw the boy rolling himself to the side, trying to prop himself up on his elbow but failing. Instead he achieved a position that still granted him a better view of his surroundings, but made his body appear awkwardly twisted.

Shifting his weight, Itachi inwardly regretted not getting the boy's mask off. With Mist nin, there was usually an advantage to seeing how they reacted to Kisame's rather unusual facial features. The same could be said about a Leaf nin's reaction to Itachi. It told them how long they had been out of contact with their home villages, and whether that had affected their grasp of missing nin from their home country. Though, considering that they already knew that this particular missing nin had been gone from the Mist Village for a long time, now it was just interest.

After a moment of silence (neither Itachi or Kisame bothering to answer the last question, having learned early on that revealing how far a captive had been taken from his original location tended to encourage escape attempts), the boy's body visibly stiffened, whether from the strain of holding his balance, or because of the lack of an answer. Itachi couldn't tell if his eyes darted between Kisame and himself under the painted mask. The boy was just as polite as before when he broke the silence, "Please, I need to meet Zabuza-san."

Kisame snort. Itachi raised an eyebrow. "I think he can take care of himself."

Their masked captive didn't move, his body staying perfectly rigid. "He's expecting me."

Itachi let his body slid down the tree's trunk and sat down. Now that Kisame was awake, it was his turn to sleep. But unlike Kisame, Itachi preferred to sleep sitting up. He sacrificed some comfort, but the effect tended to make their captives wonder whether he were mediating rather than sleeping.

Across the clearing from him, Itachi could clearly hear Kisame. "Well, looks like he's going to be disappointed then."

"You don't understand," the boy went on, words strung more quickly than before, but the voice just as soft.

Kisame said back, "He'll be fine."

"No he won't," notably then. The boy made a low sound, barely audible, but Kisame was used to providing silences to pick up little indications of one's mood similar to that. "I've got to go meet him when he's expecting me. I'm..." there was a pause, during which Itachi assumed their target was trying to find a word. He settled on, "I'm his _tool."_

A few seconds passed without a word being spoken, and then Itachi opened his eyes when he heard the sound of dead leaves cracking. Kisame was leaning forward. Itachi frowned, uncertain what his partner was doing when he reached out with one hand a hooked a finger under their captive's chin, tilting it upward. Because of the differences in their positions, Itachi was only able to see his partner's back. Itachi thought about asking his partner what he thought he was doing, when Kisame reached out with his other hand and pushed the mask unceremoniously away from their captive's face.

The boy clenched his hands together, as uncertain about what the shark ninja was doing as Itachi. They didn't relax when his mask was displaced. The angle of Kisame's body hid the majority of their target's head from Itachi's line of sight. He was able to see a sliver of a white forehead over the former Mist nin's shoulder. Itachi did notice, however, when Kisame leaned in closer to their target.

"Son of a bitch…"

Hearing his partner hiss, Itachi pulled himself a little away from the tree, unconsciously moving closer to the other two missing nin. He debated getting up himself to see what was so disturbing about their target's face, but decided against it. Kisame had only been looking at their captive's face for a few seconds before he abruptly pulled back, jerking the painted mask back down as he did so. It was left half crooked on the smaller ninja's face, while Kisame stood up and went to where his sword was leaning against the tree from earlier. "Can you watch him for a few hours?" he asked, while he adjusted the Samheda's strap, pulling it over his head and shoulder.

Itachi frowned at his partner's back, but managed to have it hidden by the time his partner turned around.

"Where are you going?" The boy, mask still askew on his head, jerked himself up to stare at the shark like shinobi. Itachi hadn't had a chance to ask the question himself.

Kisame was already walking out of the clearing when the question reached him. But Itachi thought he heard a muttered response: "I'm going to kill Zabuza."

kkkkkkkkk

Itachi watched the boy's back as he in turn stared at the place where Kisame had disappeared into the surrounding trees. He didn't try to talk to Itachi about letting him go, perhaps he already understood by an unexplainable gift that the kinder of the group had just left. Instead, the boy started moving. Shrugging his shoulders down as far as they would go, he began rolling himself over, ignoring the inconvenience that his hands must have caused. Itachi was at least satisfied that the boy wasn't about to start trying to snap the ropes around his wrist like a simpleton; that would have been a waste of effort from the beginning. Twisting his body around, the boy rotated his position by throwing his weight forward and rolling, until he was sitting on his calves with upper body rounded back in an effort to make his tied hands reach lower. Itachi considered getting up and stopping the boy's ministrations, but decided against it. There were too many times in the past when one or both of them could have been killed by a talented target with a freakishly sharpened hairpin, despite Kisame being very thorough when searching for weapons on enemy ninja. And anyway, if the boy was planning to run, he reasoned with himself, the boy's hands were tied behind his back. Even if the boy were exceptionally fast, the disablement would at least make him more cautious when charging into the forest. He would be easy to track down.

And also, Itachi didn't mind watching something move rather than thinking about his partner's whereabouts. At least since partnering with him, Kisame had never run off during a mission before. The sudden change from the usual was not appreciated.

The boy's straining hands started to hook around his rear, the rope digging into his skin to the point where bruises would likely show up tomorrow on the boy's pale wrists. The boy didn't seem to remember that Itachi even was present. The only sound he made during his exertions was a low grunt of discomfort when he finally forced his hands around his backside by throwing himself backward, using the movement to help them along. The effect shot his hands to the backs of his thighs. The boy only had to roll himself backwards, draw his knees up to his chest, and work his hands around them. When he finally sat back up, the boy had his bound hands in front of him, fingers flexing to get blood back into them that might have been blocked off by the straining of the ropes.

The entire struggle had taken about five minutes. Not bad.

Still, it was only a minor achievement.

Unconsciously, Itachi straightened when the boy brought his hands up to his face, anticipating what he was planning to do. Itachi leaned to one side to get a better view, leaves crinkling under him but not seeming to draw the younger male's attention away from his task.

The boy's hands were slower than Kisame's, taking time to carefully grasp the side of the mask with one hand and taking time to stretch the translucent string around his head when he pulled it away. Then the Uchiha's mildly interested glance became an open stare.

The boy, still ignoring his audience, brought his wrists to his mouth and took one coil of the rope between his teeth. Like trying to snap the bonds, trying to chew them was also a wasted effort. Akatsuki was not stupid. The ropes were only ropes in appearance; underneath the disguising layer, there was a finger-thick, chakra-absorbing chain. Itachi could see the moment the boy's grinding teeth came into contact with the metal. His brown eyes widened and his mouth suddenly became still, Itachi's eyes all the while continuing to devour his face.

In the information given to them before taking the mission, there had been nothing about the boy's appearance. Kisame and Itachi had been told about the boy's weapons, his clothes, even a bit about how he hand at some point mastered the art of one-handed seals...but according to their client, no one had ever seen the hunter nin imposter without his mask. It was one of the reasons that it had been so difficult to detect him. In truth, even when Akatsuki had been given the assignment, Kisame and Itachi had had to rely on the assumed partnership with their target and track down Zabuza.

The boy tore his hands away from his mouth and stared at the chain in disbelief. When his head snapped back up after a moment, his large, beautiful eyes focused on Itachi. He started to beg again, pleading to be let go. Perhaps he knew that by removing the cushioning layer of rope material, even in only a small patch, the chains were able to absorb his chakra all the faster.

He was very polite for a missing nin, Itachi thought absently to himself, even as his eyes narrowed. He was already getting up from his place under the tree. It was one of the few times that he could remember having his common sense thoughtlessly glossed over. At least...while he was on duty. His comrades would think that someone had used a henge to impersonate him. But something was occurring to him that should have registered earlier: Why had Kisame been surprised by their target's face?

Instant dislike flooded Itachi's current thought, fueled by hazily veiled jealousy and frustration at not being able to demand answers from his currently absent partner, even as he knelt down in front of the boy.

The boy really didn't have to worry as much as he did. All chains have to have a clasp. Feeling along the rope, Itachi quickly located the slight lump under the deceiving rope layer and cut away the covering around it with a kunai from his weapons holster. It really was a wonder that the boy could be panicked enough not to notice that there was no knot on the ropes in the first place.

The boy tore his hands away the moment Itachi finished unhooking the clasp, jumping up to find where his weapons had been thrown during Kisame's search. When he found them, he turned around to leave, but caught Itachi's stare before he could disappear. For a second, Itachi thought that the look on his target's face became thoughtful as he looked him over carefully. He hesitated for a second, then timidly came back to where the Uchiha was and bent down to scoop up his mask. His dark eyes strayed to Itachi's face, and for a second it appeared that he was about to say something. But then a sound from behind - not a shinobi, Itachi knew right away, maybe a deer - startled the boy into moving. He disappeared into the forest quickly, faster than when they had been chasing him earlier.

Itachi didn't get up from where he was still kneeling in the dried leaves. He was aware of the direction that the boy had run off in, and he knew the exact location that he was running to. If he hurried, he might have been able to match the boy's intense speed and recapture him before Kisame returned.

But there was a solid fact in his mind keeping him from doing so: the simple, overwhelming feeling that he didn't want to. His brain was still digesting the fact that the mission briefing had failed to tell him one incredibly important fact. That with his large, chocolate eyes and the long, gleaming hair that he kept pinned up neatly, pale skin and petite stature, Haku was _exactly _Kisame's type.

kkkkkkkkk

A/N:

In other stories, Gato has been used as a villain, a ghost, and even a pimp. But to my knowledge, no one has ever used him in a sex scene, and to tell you the truth, I'm not really to eager about being the first. I hope I didn't send anyone running away screaming for hot water to splash in their eyes.

Also...did anyone figure out who Itachi and Kisame's target was before I mentioned his name? I thought I would add it in anyway, just incase their are a few stupid people out there that needed it (no offence if you're one of 'em). But just so you all know, Haku's name certainly wouldn't have been in the information that Akatsuki received if they didn't even know what he looked like.

Anyway, that's the first chapter of the long awaited sequal. I'm sorry that I took so long writing it. But I put Itachi in a schoolgirl uniform. Does that compensate anything? ((puppy eyes)) Let me know what you think please. After all the time I spent hitting myself upside the head while writing this, I would like to know if it turned out okay. :)

And also...

**Reveiw Responces for Early Bird Gets What?**

**Smoking Panda** Thank you SO MUCH for agreeing to be my test reader. You'll never know how long I hit my head against the wall over whether I should post this story or not. And I'm thrilled that you liked my depiction of Itachi as a naive-but-still-a-little-less-than-pure-mindedteenager.

**blisblop** WOOT! I'm not the only one that thinks Itachi might actually have a personality under his cold, hands-off-if-you-want-to-keep-them attitude. I was worried that people were going to say that I was writing him out of character because I tried to add onto him a little.

**sheero** ((hands you a bottle of eyedrops)) I finally continued it. I hope that it stayed in key with EBGW, I wrote them kind of far apart. . But your reveiw on the first story really made me smile. I figured that I wouldn't hurt Itachi to be the emotional one for once, right?

**Sisco** ((dances)) Congratulations for joining the ranks of KisaIta fans! EMBRACE THE KISAITA!...Anyway, I hope that you like this sequal. Let me know if it takes at all away from the first, eh?

**Satia (Satiaus?)** Original? Me? ((bounces with joy))

**Azamiko** Well, I ended up deciding not to keep the story as a one shot, but I'd still really like your opinion on whether this chapter is suitable as a sequal.

**Lady of Gryffindor** Thank you for the compliment. XD

**Blind Kunoichi** ((hugs))

**Kik-Zanuff** Damn right KisaIta rocks! No one can justly deny it! Do you have a devionart page? I think I might have stumbled across it if you do.


	2. chapter 2

Becoming a Missing Nin can change a person. Kisame himself learned that quickly when he left his own village, and inwardly, he always believed that he was likely one of the luckier members of his shattered previous organization. For one thing, he had been recruited into a new group before he had to come to terms with some of the harsher effects of the Missing Nin lifestyle. From what he'd seen in others, they weren't pretty (for God's sake, look at Orochimaru!). But nevertheless, even under the somewhat-security of the Akatsuki cloak, some changes were inevitable. They had to learn to never hold anything as truth until given solid proof. Just as well, they need to learn how to keep their names and identities quiet until the last possible moment (though considering Kisame's level of uniqueness, he had a harder time with that than most). And most importantly, they learned to turn themselves off from developing any kind of specific attachment to other people. The latter rule was encouraged in most shinobi villages anyway; especially in the Bloody Mist, where at least half of one's comrades were killed upon the very first day of his shinobi career. Living there as long as he had – and better, being on a team specifically meant to kill in violent, if vaguely discreet ways – had done its job in jading him. But there were still times when Kisame couldn't completely conform to the indifference rule.

He couldn't help it. He liked kids.

So when he stayed out of the fight when he reached the attack site where Zabuza, unaware that his backup weapon had been confiscated, was carrying out his own mission, he didn't have an excuse. The group being attacked consisted of five: the civilian bridge builder that Zabuza had been hired to eliminate, three obviously inexperienced Genin (he could see them shaking from his position), and their single Jounin instructor. Since Kisame had come to the site with the intention of removing the bandage-wearing, arrogant son of a bitch's jaw bone with his teeth, it might have been more practical for him to jump into the fight right away. It would have been kinder, definitely, because by the time he arrived the one Jounin (who Kisame recognized as the infamous Copy Nin, from his old days working for the Mist) was already out of the fight. Zabuza was holding him in a hydro prison in the middle of the clearing's lake, possibly waiting for him to suffocate, or perhaps keeping him alive to toy with the younger ninja before ending the fight with the water clone he had stationed on the shore. Either way, it was clear that no one was going to be defeating Zabuza anytime soon.

But then again, as Kisame had already mentioned, being a Missing Nin did go a long way to hardening one's sense of compassion.

But he knew that that was an empty excuse, completely contradicting the confession he already made just a few minutes ago. Yes, he did like kids, and yes, he was probably going to stop Zabuza before he mercilessly slaughtered the three children below, but the reason he hadn't done so yet was because not ten minutes after Kisame got there, one of the Genin stepped forward. First there had been a loud blonde who was already shouting and making a perfect ass of himself, which was probably why Kisame hadn't taken the other two into account until the very moment that the team's other boy came forward to try to shift the situation for their benefit. Unfortunately (and unsurprisingly) the boy's attack failed (since he apparently forgot that the odds were that of a _Genin _against a seasoned exiled ninja). The boy's blonde teammate gasped loud enough to be heard by every shinobi present, which could also be said about anything else the orange-clad miscreant did. Soft spot or no, Kisame was tempted to wait until after the blonde was killed out of pity to what cruel, painful death might wait in the future for a ninja that had not mastered the art of s_ilence_.

But that was off point. The thing that made Kisame suddenly decide he wanted to stay on the sidelines and observe the fight rather than join it was that when the darker of the two Genin came running forward in his failed attack, Kisame got his first good look at him. Then Zabuza's clone (it was all the boy could reach; he hadn't even learned to walk on water yet) lifted him up by the throat, and there was a moment when something jumped out at the shark nin from the thin, haughty nose and the particular way the hair parted away from the unscratched forehead protector that was oddly familiar.

The clone threw the boy aside, sending him crashing to the ground at his teammate's feet. His teammates gasped. The original Zabuza's eyes took on a superior look that suggested there was a smirk under his bandages.

After a moment the boy got up. Glared.

Oh. That's who he reminded him of.

Kisame wrinkled his forehead in confusion once he drew up a mental picture of the partner he had spent the last couple of years with and confirmed that there was an alarming, very clearly _family_ resemblance between the two. While their conversations over the years had been on the brief-but-very-gradually-becoming-frequent side, Kisame clearly remembered bringing up the subject of why each of them had left their home countries. True, Itachi had given him only the barest details in response, but that was alright. Any Leaf shinobi found drunk as far as the Snow Country was more than happy to give a surprisingly inventive tale of the Uchiha massacre if there was another bottle of free sake involved. But nevertheless, from the conversation with Itachi, the words "I killed my family" had most definitely been used. So maybe it wasn't the same as "My _whole _family" or "My _entire _family," but that had been assumed. Itachi was not one to leave loose ends.

Shaking his head slightly in dismissal, Kisame forcefully put the question aside until later. Itachi was hard enough to figure out when he was present.

Kisame brought his attention back to the fight going on below. The idiotic blonde was still mindlessly wasting energy on Zabuza's clone while the real one watched from the middle of the lake. He did have to admit that the kid was determined. But also sloppy. And overwhelmingly loud. The dark haired boy that looked so much like Itachi was off to one side, favoring the shoulder that had impacted first when he was thrown. He could have either been recovering from the fall earlier or trying to think of ways to throw himself at the clone again. Kisame noted that there was no Sharingan on the replica of his partner, which was probably the biggest difference (Itachi would have had Zabuza writhing in pain at the bottom of the lake by now). Kisame noted the third team member for the sake of not being caught off guard by another sudden appearance in the battle. She was a pretty little pink haired thing that was probably showing the greatest amount of sense out of the whole team by being the only one to actually stay with their client, and Zabuza's only perspective target. She couldn't do anything to fend him off of course, but at least she was trying to create an illusion of protection for the old man.

The dark haired boy caught something thrown to him by one of the many clones the blonde had made of himself. There was a half second pause and then, black bangs falling forward as if to damage his sight, he re-entered the fight, and Kisame was able to see the long blades of a shuriken for a moment, before the boy pulled back his arm and sent the weapon forward in a prefect, Itachi-worthy Shadow Windmill. Not that Itachi used weapons too often. The Uchiha was, after all, recruited for the sake of his eyes before anything else (though that wasn't a fact to be repeated to the before-mentioned's face; even in their own organization offending that vanity queen was not done lightly).

The attack worked. From his position, Kisame was able to see another shuriken hidden in the shadow of the first. But he couldn't deny that he had no idea of how it got there when the Itachi-mini had clearly thrown only one, until the moment that it poofed into the spiky haired blonde Genin.

Okay, so maybe he _would_ save the kid before Zabuza killed him. That stunt earned it...

But even as Kisame was deciding how much damage would still be allowed to the Genin, the blonde whipped out and threw one of his own weapons directly at the bandaged ninja. Zabuza, having caught the original shuriken for the sake of protecting himself, and with his other hand busy holding the hydro prison intact, had to let go of something or accept a rather painful gash.

He chose the wrong something.

The Copy Nin was freed.

The odds changed. Not to the point of a sure victory, but at least to a fighting chance now that someone who did know how to use the Sharingan was back on the field. Which very shortly became just as good as a sure victory. Kisame was inwardly a little disappointed at how easily Zabuza was taken in by the Sharingan as soon as the Copy Nin was out of his prison. Of course, that was coming from someone who had spent almost four years straight traveling with a master of the ability, and capable of grasping some of the basics of how the ability worked.

After completing that thought, Kisame was immediately hit by disappointment again, this time for the fact that now it looked as if he wasn't going to be given the chance to dismantle his old teammate at all. Though the humiliation of being brought back to their village by a mere Genin team and their instructor wouldn't be great for the ego of the Zabuza he remembered, especially with a certain blonde proudly boasting all the way...

Kisame watched Zabuza's water dragon attack fail when used against an identical one performed by the Copy Nin. The effect of the two bodies of water clashing created a massive tidal wave that somehow only seemed to swallow up Zabuza while Kakashi went off into the trees. His location was noted a few minutes later when the current forced the bandaged ninja against a tree trunk, and two well aimed kunai shot into his arms, pinning him there. Kakashi hopped onto the branch above the Missing Nin, which Kisame noted ironically, was only a few feet away from where he himself was hiding, but the Jounin's detection abilities weren't exactly the most important matter at the moment.

"How...? Can you tell the future...?"

Kisame nearly shuddered at the pitiful tone in his ex-comrade's voice. He was close enough to hear their conversation over the rushing water.

"Yes. You are going to die."

Kisame shifted a little for a better view, but nearly slammed himself back into the tree when the prediction proved correct. Though probably not quite in the way that the Copy Nin had "foreseen," he was sure. Out of nowhere, two long slender needles shot into the neck of the Mist's one time Demon. By the way Zabuza's body slumped, face frozen with a convincing expression of shock and pain in place, the needles might have really severed his jugular vein. It was so sudden, so clean.

Kisame didn't believe it for a moment.

Though, admittedly, he might have. If he hadn't been specifically told about those kinds of attacks before accepting his current mission. The unease that entered his mind at that moment had nothing to do with the death of his ex-teammate, but more reasonably, went along the lines of, "_What the **hell** Itachi-san!"_

He looked up from his perch, already knowing what he would find if he looked in the right direction. He might have already been spotted by the painfully large and naive eyes of Zabuza's "tool." The Copy Nin turned his attention to finding the bandage-wearer's killer, too, as did his team. The blonde was the first to speak.

"Who the hell are you!"  
He was standing just across from them, up in a tree directly level with Kisame. The mask was in place, keeping the shark nin from knowing whether he had been spotted. He assumed he was for caution reasons.

Kisame didn't need to listen for the answer to the blonde's question. Unless Zabuza had somehow managed to train twins to live and die for him, there was no doubt about whether the boy standing across from him with the red and white mask was the exact one that he left with Itachi less than an hour ago.

Rather than doing something stupid like trying to retake the boy in front of a group that very nearly killed his ex-comrade, Kisame decided to take the safer, and at that moment more pressing route first. He needed to find Itachi. After all, allowing a target to simply walk away was not characteristic for the cool, collected, and occasionally very cruel seventeen-year-old.

Not to mention it made things one hell of a lot more difficult now. If that masked kid had any sense at all he would tell his "Zabuza-san" about their presence now. Sparing one more glance, Kisame silently left the battle site, intending to track down his partner and find out just how exactly the second strongest member of Akatsuki could be overpowered by a bound and unarmed fifteen year old girl-boy.

kkkkkkkkkk

Itachi hadn't moved since the boy ran off into the forest, not stopping as he hastily strapped his mask back into place. Dazedly, the Uchiha remained kneeling until the sound of crunching leaves went away and the boy's chakra faded out of reach of his senses. When he finally did force himself to stand, a sudden head rush threatened to send him back to the ground, despite the Uchiha clan's legendary composure. He regained balance though, by taking a step back and leaning against one of the many trees. He felt dizzy.

He had just helped a target escape. That fact didn't need sinking in, it was right at the forefront of his mind. Along with the fact that he had broken one of the most basic of all shinobi rules: never let emotions mingle with duty. And damnit, he was an Uchiha! He didn't _have _bloody emotions that couldn't be well shrouded, if not controlled. Had his father ever shown unwarranted compassion on a mission? Shisui? At this rate he would end up as much an embarrassment as that one cousin with the yellow glasses that died before he even reached Jounin status!

Pushing himself away from the tree, Itachi matter-of-factly clamped down on his thoughts as he always did when they threatened to distract him from the present. His hands automatically went to brush leaves off his uniform and straighten his cloak. Outwardly, he showed no sign of distress. Inwardly, he attempted to retrace his thoughts but gave it up when his head began to ache, and wearily closed them away for later. The sensible part of him that was still functioning told him that whether he was currently on mental-clean-up or not, his former captive had just run off, and was more than likely going to regroup and come back (if he was half competent on the fact that one needed to eliminate enemies _right away _if they wanted to live past the age of twenty in their profession).

He needed to move. Now.

Besides…Kisame would be coming back soon. And if the shark nin and their target had both gone in the direction he thought they did, and were seeking out the same person he thought they were, it was only a matter of minutes before the first of the two noticed that Itachi had just needlessly made their mission a whole lot more difficult.

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It goes without saying that all ninja villages try to encourage a survival-of-the-fittest attitude in their shinobi. The only exception might be the Hidden Village of the Leaf, which during its time of peace grew to encourage fellowships and alliances more than any other village. On the opposite hand, no village rejected the idea of risking their neck for comrades more than the Mist.

The Hidden Village of the Mist not only thought that their shinobi could live and thrive solely off of their own abilities, but they viewed the civilians with the same live-or-die-on-your-own-strength principle. As a result, the Mist had one of the largest percentages of desolate families, and the fewest amount of charities to help them (a statistic that the Mizukage neither flinched away from, nor encouraged mentioning). Non-nins in the Hidden Village of the Mist weren't exactly the kage's first concern. The council there was far more focused on raising their ninja to be the most efficient killers possible, as other countries were quickly able to deduce from their Academy exams, where students were basically put into a room with weapons and told to go nuts.

The Mist, obviously, wasn't known for being careful with resources either.

Kisame himself had gone through the infamous exam the year before the Academy reformed, which was possibly just as well for all the merit his family hung on it (his father alone might have waged war on the schools if they changed it a year sooner). Unlike other villages, the Mist didn't pair its students up depending on grades, so that the highest scoring student was set up to fight the lowest scoring. It would be pointless, the council reasoned, because the outcome would be clear before the match even began. Instead, the students were matched up alphabetically, A fighting Z, and so on. And it just so happened that in Kisame's family, he had his opposite letter living in the room next to his. Ping.

Every family, Kisame was sure, had its troubles. Kisame guessed, during the years he began to understand the rules that waited to take either him or his brother out of existence at the end of their Academy days, that the rift in his family had likely been around from long before he was born. How it began, and what dictated the rules between family interactions, he was never sure. His parents had been subjected to an arranged marriage, and though Kisame and his brother were supposed to be the generation that bound their two families together, the exact terms of the union were never fully explained. He was told by one of his aunts that it had been meant to resolve a land feud of some kind between the Hoshigaki clan and the family that lived there before them. But his mother's family, if they still lived in the Water Country after the marriage, never visited. A fact that seemed odd for a peace-forming union. His father's family, in turn, regarded his mother with what seemed to be a not unnoticeably cold courtesy, which Kisame had also come to wonder about when he grew older. But as a child, the future exiled nin assumed that the difference between him and his twin had made all the difference between binding the family and continuing the division.

Unlike what their family had doubtlessly expected when they found out that the head of their clan was to have twin sons, Ping and Kisame had been born fraternal twins rather than identical. Kisame was the older by a matter of minutes. He inherited the family's customary appearance that so matched their family emblem, complete with blue-gray skin and fully-functional gills. His mother might have been horrified during the fifteen minutes before she bore her second son. Ping was as different from the Hoshigaki as was possible for a blood relation. His hair was smooth and black, normal for Water Country-born people, his complexion pale, eyes large. No trace of blue. No gills. Before his umbilical cord was cut, it was clear that Ping was his mother's son. Maybe that was why Kisame and Ping were named with the letters directly opposite of each other, because no matter how he tried to credit his family, Kisame could see no way that his mother and father, both respectable Jounin raised in the Mist, could have not known about the pairing system for the final exam. He only wondered which one had named them.

Growing up, it didn't take long for the lines to establish themselves between the shark nin and his average-looking brother. People will always chose what is known to them over what is different. Ping was liked better at school by teachers and students, while just the opposite was done at home with their family. Their mother even was no exception. Kisame would only realize that there were lines that did not need to be spoken regarding who was allowed to approach their mother first, who was allowed to touch her, and who was supposed to wait quietly until he was acknowledged. Like the school teachers and students, she stuck to her own kind.

Years later, Kisame supposed that might have been part of the reason why he was never squeamish about the idea of working with someone who unflinchingly murdered his family. In his own case, he had known from an absurdly early age that he was either going to murder his brother, or be murdered by him. The "land feud" between their mother's family and their father's might have been officially ended before they were conceived, but Kisame knew, and he was sure Ping knew, that it was going to end with them.

Of course, there were other children whose names started with the letters K or P. If either of them had tried, they probably could have changed their match up. Their parents might have protested, but once a complaint was made, there was no doubt in Kisame's mind that the teachers would have requested, pled, done s_omething _to alter it. But neither of them said anything. Whether Ping had any inclination to do so, Kisame didn't know. And he never asked the brother that he hardly spoke to, who was accepted so easily into any group, and whose grades were far below his own because he had never had their father pushing him to the point of exhaustion. When Kisame held a kunai into his smaller brother's gut, Ping looked up at him with their mother's cold, large eyes and quietly wheezed out his last breath, that on his more thoughtful nights, Kisame could almost convince himself contained the words, "You win." And then the black water eyes had closed. Afterward, Kisame couldn't remember if he pushed the body away or if it had slid to the ground on its own.

Mourning for Ping lasted only as long as was absolutely necessary for a shinobi family. There was an official period of mourning in the Mist that was set right after the Academy exams, probably suggested by one of the kinder council members, where the whole village was told to mourn the loss of half of the year's class. Some families continued mourning for weeks afterwards. The shark clan didn't.

Not long after Ping's death, Kisame's mother passed away too, while he was away on his first outside mission. Though when he got back, he highly doubted that the precise, graceful woman that he and his brother had occasionally trained with as children had tripped and "accidentally" stabbed herself with a kunai, he didn't say anything. By that time, he hadn't spoken to her since his exam.

He began staying away from home as much as he could after that. He encouraged his sensei to get as many long term missions as possible (which he learned from one of his short conversations with Itachi, was much easier than in the Leaf, where Genin were assigned to simple chore-like missions during their first year; the idea of Itachi mucking out a stable still made him laugh). And when they weren't able to leave the village, he trained.

In the Mist, where snowfall takes up over seventy percent of the year, and rainfall the other thirty, there are two ways an advancing shinobi can train. The first was to go to the training grounds and work until they passed out and then spend weeks in the local hospital recovering from frost bite and a severe cold (because a determined ninja _would _stay out that long), or they could go to the training building. As had already been mentioned, the Mizukage in the Mist had only one obsession: raise strong shinobi. And to do that in his cold climate, he discovered, there needed to be a place inside that the shinobi could go to train without the risk of getting sick. Thus, he ordered the construction of a three story building specifically for that purpose. The building was to be heated, stocked with weapons, medic kits, and other minor provisions often used on missions. Then, on a more chilling level, there was the one spacious room that was built for the purpose of housing the Academy's exit exam. It was right next door to the Genin locker room. The Kage apparently had a sick sense of humor.

The distribution of keys was also specifically noted. Jounins, of course, had a key to every room in the building. Chuunin had a key to the front door. And Genin, well, they s_hould _build up an immunity to the cold, shouldn't they? In most cases, Genin were only able to get into the building with their sensei's permission. _Most cases, _being Kisame's wording because, well, since he spent so much time training his father sort of "gave" Kisame a set of keys one morning after he came home late the night before and carelessly left his key ring on the bathroom counter.

Kisame just had to remind himself to be careful going in and out at odd hours. He didn't doubt that someone had to have noticed him, but he was certain that the Jounin or Chuunin that did simply didn't care enough to say anything, because really, who _cared _if a Genin spent a few extra hours training? All the more likely he'd become a Chuunin soon and have his own key anyway.

But years later, when Kisame was feeling thoughtful like he did when he finally let himself think about Ping, and maybe a little drunk, he supposed that in the long run, that set of keys did affect every shinobi who came in and out of that building.

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Exactly two hours, forty-five minutes, and fifteen seconds later, Itachi had relocated. Because deep down he was still aware of the fact that he had been born and raised (to an extent) in a forest climate, and because it was the most practical way to travel through dense forest, Itachi moved over the ground rather than on it, not allowing even the driest of leaves to stir as he went from branch to branch. As soon as he felt sure that his direction and movement could not be tracked and thus bring any unwanted company after him, he had begun thinking about where to go from where he was now. The most logical action would be to find his partner and formulate a plan to re-capture their target. Though the only problem with that was that he would have to explain just how he managed to lose him in the first place.

A sensible voice told him that the responsible thing to do would be to simply admit to letting the boy go. It would save him the trouble of making up a story and keep Kisame from using that cheeky smirk in the future, the one that Kisame wore after finding the note and capturing their target while Itachi dazedly watched.

But then there was another part that had to point out that the responsible thing would have been to _not _get intimidated by some fifteen year old drag queen's looks and let him go in the first place. He was Uchiha Itachi, after all! As far as looks went, he knew he had nothing to fear. Even if that boy with the mask had gotten more of a reaction out of Kisame than he had in years.

But that was off the current subject. He had to find Kisame before he could undo his mistake. As long as the mission was carried out successfully, there was always the chance that the right Do-Not-Question-Me glare would keep this incident from conversation. But even if he did catch the false hunter nin again, if his partner was killed by that bandage-wearing freak and his apprentice, there was a good chance that Itachi would be made to regret it even more so at home base. For one, after dragging his partner's lifeless blue corpse back to home base, he would have to explain himself to the _boss. _Or worse: he could be reassigned to Orochimaru.

Itachi inwardly winced at that thought.

Re-taking their masked target would be harder now that they no longer had the element of surprise, but far from impossible. Maybe they wouldn't be able to pull the mission off without running into Momochi Zabuza; Kisame might be unhappy about that, but it was still far from undoable. The hardest part would probably be getting the boy back to the Mist alive. From the pathetic display before, it seemed that the unfortunate creature was _dedicated _to his partner. That was a fairly big mistake to be made by shinobi.

Another subconscious voice popped up in the back of his head to snicker_ Hypocrite, _and then disappear without so much as a "poof!"

As Itachi continued to move, he scanned the area around him more thoroughly with his eyes than his chakra senses. Though he did occasionally sense small spurts of it, the chakra trails that he detected were not strong enough to be identified. He didn't exactly expect to recognize Kisame's signature at random with that method; the shark nin was not an idiot. If Kisame were out and looking for Itachi as well, he knew that the shark nin would hide his own chakra well enough so not to attract enemy attention. But, as the Leaf's ANBU told him the day he joined their ranks, if one is consciously attacked, he shows his chakra. Whether it can be hidden or not does not matter, it simply is not a good idea to waste the effort. So, Itachi went on looking.

...Until he caught one sudden strong wave of chakra when he paused on a branch for a spilt second. The source came from behind him. He pretended that he didn't notice. He continued going onward through the trees, taking careful notice of the person following him. The person was approaching him quickly, probably traveling in the canopy rather than on the ground like he was. Itachi inwardly looked at the frank presence behind him, and wondered if the owner had any common sense in his head at all. There was no attempt to hide the chakra, no subtle hint in the stranger's approach at all. In fact, it became steadily more obvious until Itachi got to the point where he could hear the loud clash of wooden sandals hitting against bark, when it occurred to him that the presence behind him possibly w_anted _to be spotted.

He stopped after completing the jump he was in the process of making when this realization dawned on him. The chakra source that he had only recently been acquainted with came bounding after him. The clash of the boy's sandals kept coming. Such loud footwear, Itachi knew, could only mean that the wearer was either incredibly confident or unreasonably stupid. He wasn't sure which one he would credit to the person who landed on a branch across from him in a flutter of loose clothing. His target's mask was off, revealing the soft face beneath to the shady forest light. The dark eyes sought his out before the boy's balance had even been established, and Itachi thought that maybe he could credit the boy with one thing, and that was…he could confuse the fucking hell out of anything that moved! What kind of a ninja seeks out someone as intent on taking him captive as a hunter nin? Or worse, considering the fact that Itachi had no intention of disposing of a wayward shinobi, but planned on taking the boy alive and turning him over to one furious Mist councilman?

Neither of the missing nin blinked as they stared at each other, one standing tall in a red and black cloak while the one across from his straightened the over-sized folds of his jacket. When he was done, the differences in the positions of their separate branches was just enough to almost make it so they were able to stand level with one another.

Itachi didn't move, ready to attack as he was.

Haku smiled.

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Because of the little amount of concern that people showed to the homeless when he was a kid, as a teenager Kisame showed little, if any, acknowledgement for those that were known to haunt the alleyways and light fires in old trashcans at night. As a child in the Mist, one learned not to look below chin level. For children this does of course result in many nasty falls in winter when puddles turn into slippery ice on the sidewalks, but by following the rule there's no reason to see the pitiful bodies curled up into balls against the sides of buildings. It was said that you could recognize a foreigner from a local in the Water Country depending on how they walk down the street. Someone from the Leaf or even the Sand would glance down to step around the ragged urchins, while a local citizen, shinobi or not, would walk on as if there was nothing there. The only people, in fact, that show any acknowledgement of them at all are the Genin teams that the Mizukage assigns to clear the frozen corpses off the street before decay sets in.

Of course, Kisame only found out about that last part during his first winter as a Genin. The mission was carried out at night, when the streets were the least crowded, with other Genin teams that were assigned the same job. No one spoke during it. What happened to the bodies after they were turned over to their instructors, Kisame didn't find out until he reached the status of Jounin, and even then, he preferred not to take on those types of missions if he could avoid them. That was why in one of the coldest cities in the Water Country, children abruptly lost their love of snow after reaching the age of twelve.

When he was fourteen, snowfall was uncommonly high, even for the Mist's standards. If it started falling when he was in the training building, he would try to wait it out for two reasons. One was simply that he preferred not to walk home in the middle of a storm. The other had something to do with the Chuunin who would occasionally slip into the Genins' locker room to tell stories about how the homeless could be driven mad by hunger and cold to the point of attacking shinobi walking down the streets alone at night. Though it was stupid to think that one feeble bum could take down even the slowest of Genin, one had to admit that if enough desperate people tried, the sheer numbers would be overpowering.

Some nights, the snowfall would outlast him and he would be forced to go outside or risk being spotted by the late-goers who preferred to train at night. It was on one of those nights that he stepped out into the snow, keys in hand to lock the door behind him - it was a safety measure that his sensei had once explain. The idea was to keep unauthorized people out. Namely Genin who didn't have permission to be in the building. He was just extracting the key and turning to go when he stopped with his hand still reaching toward the door.

The homeless generally stayed away from parts of the village frequented by shinobi. It was all too well known that no help would be offered to them. But that night, the third consecutive night of snowfall in one week, Kisame abruptly found himself being studied by a black pair of eyes as aloof and cold as the ice flakes falling around them.

The owner of the eyes was huddled into a gap between the butcher's and the carpenter's shop, knees pulled up to his chest and arms tightly wrapped around them to conserve warmth. Kisame couldn't see most of the urchin's face because he was pressing his mouth and nose against his knees to keep them from freezing in the wind, but his eyes stared warily out all the same from beneath the cover of choppy black bangs. When he noticed that Kisame was returning it, the thinner boy didn't blink. He met Kisame's eyes as if to stare him down even as his arms strained to tighten his hold on himself. Kisame could guess why this boy wasn't dead yet. As he stepped away from the building and toward the street (he needed to cross it to get home), the boy's eyes narrowed into a glare, and Kisame decided that if he were to attack the urchin, as pitiful shape as he was in, the boy would fight back whole heartedly.

As he got closer, and the wind, no longer blocked by the training building, finally sank into Kisame's clothes, he felt the weight of the keys in his hand. The boy's clothes were thinner than his own. Not ragged, as what he'd seen on others, but definitely worn down to threads. Also, he could see that his shirt was clearly meant for summer weather. What kind of idiot wears short sleeves during a Water Country winter?

The boy was younger than him, Kisame realized when he reached the sidewalk. It was hard to guess his age with the boy huddled as he was, but Kisame was sure that the pitiful creature was smaller than he was. Thinner. Though the size of the boy's hands and feet suggested that the litheness of his form was due to malnutrition rather than from any error in his genes.

A little voice in the back of his head, conscious of society's views, told him that he was being stupid. The Mizukage said that the homeless were homeless for a reason, and that if they were meant to be any other way then they would be able to work for it on their own. But even as he moved to step around the homeless boy, the black eyes held his, and held him to his resolve. Later, he would try to decide for himself if he was thrown into a smothered, supposedly dead sense of compassion or if, more likely, it was because the urchin was around the same age and size as Ping when he died. But during that one moment when he was walking pass the unflinching stare, he didn't falter. He just opened his fist and let the keys drop to the snow-covered ground.

The snow cushioned the keys' fall, the still descending flakes threatening to cover them as quickly as they landed, but Kisame had no doubt that those watchful eyes had seen where they landed. He didn't doubt either that as soon as he turned the corner the boy would spring forward and dig through the snow for them. Even with the stubborn pride that would have had the frail body throwing himself against a trained shinobi at the most vague indication of disgust.

Kisame never saw the stick-thin urchin boy on the streets again. He never bothered to look. The day after the storm, when Kisame had gone out to the training building at his usual hour and mentally told himself not to be surprised that his keys weren't waiting on the stairs for him, he overheard one of the other Genin commenting that someone had broken into his locker and stolen his spare cloak. Weeks later, his sensei casually mentioned that the Mizukage had just rejected the idea of having the training building gassed; it seemed that someone was complaining about rats stealing from the rations supply room.

And years later, yet another trivial thought would come up on his list of memories that would always haunt him. That, without thinking, he had given the Silent Killer of the Mist the keys to the shinobi world without considering anything more than how small his arms were.

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Itachi kept his face impassive as the smaller Missing Nin that should have been running in the opposite direction smiled pleasantly at him. After a moment, when it became clear that the Uchiha was not going to break the silence, the boy timidly offered, "Hello."

Itachi lifted an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the greeting, but said nothing. He considered trying to use his Sharingan to distract the smaller boy and recapture him. But the boy simply continued to stare at Itachi, until curiosity finally made him say stiffly, "You were following me."

The boy shifted on his perch a bit, and Itachi was sure that his expression became more sheepish as he responded. "Gomen..." His head bowed forward for a moment, and Itachi decided that he wasn't even going to start on the absurdity of apologizing to one's enemy. Still he waited for more of an explanation. If the boy had a death wish after begging for his freedom, Itachi certainly wanted to know why. A reprimanding voice reminded him to be cautious, despite how unthreatening the person across from him looked. He had been dodging hunter nins since he was thirteen, after all. Silently, he reached out for any traces of the illusive chakra he felt faintly before while looking for Kisame. He got nothing.

The formerly masked boy sat down quietly on his branch, as if guessing what Itachi was doing and patiently waiting for the other ninja to finish so he could focus on him instead. Itachi caught the large eyes traveling over his face and pointedly looked back. The pale face turned faintly pink and bowed again. There was another soft spoken, "Gomen."

The professional part of Itachi (which actually was a pretty large part, given his lack of life outside work) rolled its eyes and told him matter-of-factly that the "responsible" thing to do right now would be to grab the boy and be on his way. How easy would it be right now, with the boy staring up at him so openly and for all appearances completely ignorant of his Sharingan? But then the contradicting thought pointed at the same fact and announced cautiously, _This isn't right._ It was too easy.No one who had been deceiving the Mist's ANBU since the age of twelve could survive being that stupid, he told himself. For God's sake, the boy had come after him_ alone._

The boy looked up, catching Itachi's suspicious glare. Itachi thought he saw the boy's hand twitch, and suspected an attack, but then instead:

"What's your partner's name?"

Itachi's other eyebrow went up for a moment before his image forced him to drag both back into their proper place. The boy didn't so much as blink. He stared back at the Sharingan user pleasantly as if he had just asked about the weather, and not a half-shark man who had earlier that day stormed off muttering that he was going to kill his partner…Alright, so maybe "stormed off" was too extreme of wording, but that didn't take away from the fact that he had, quietly, stated that he intended to do harm to the boy's "Zabuza-san."

In a low voice, Itachi countered with, "Why do you want to know?"

There was a pause, and Itachi thought perhaps that the boy had sincerely been hoping for the actual answer. The boy's face was naturally smooth, but Itachi could see the delicate jaw clench several times before the soft voice finally blurted out, as conscientiously as the question before, "Because you're like me."

And Itachi stared back blankly less for the sake of his limited reactions, than for the fact that he didn't bloody agree.

Silence returned again, up until the boy realized that the bright red eyes were carefully moving over his face once, twice, then, "G-Gomen...!" one pale hand, baring perfectly filed and painted nails, gestured sheepishly towards the not so masculine features of the other boy's face. "I did not mean it _that_ way."

Mind tracing back to the other most memorable detail from earlier that morning, Itachi said impassively but clearly in case this was an issue with the younger shinobi, "I'm not a tool."

"No," the boy agreed. For a moment Itachi thought that perhaps he was going to apologize again, but he was disappointed. Instead, his target moved his head back a little so that his hair moved out of his face, and said in a voice that was once more warm and sociable, "but you belong to him."

At Itachi's continuing blank look, the boy shifted yet again, moving his legs either to find a more comfortable position, or for the sake of saying 'I know you're not going to answer, but I'll pretend I don't.' When he looked back up, he was smiling politely. "I saw you before," the boy said when he finally stopped moving. Itachi had the faint idea that his target would have made an excellent politician with his never faltering manners. "When he was checking me. I saw you looking at him."

"That..." Itachi started to glare impulsively, then his memory kicked in with a perfect recollection of what happened in what order, and his facial muscles paused. One eye on the expectant face, Itachi's mind put together that yes, his paranoia had been right and the boy _had _been perfectly awake and capable of processing his surroundings when he had thought he was, and then that there had also been a twenty minute period where the boy had been conscious and watching...the boy might have been awake from the very moment he was laid down in the clearing, before his hands were tied, perfectly capable of attack or escape…

Itachi blinked his eyes, then looked back at where the boy was currently watching him with that same calm demeanor that was very much like his own, save that it was meant to inspire ease in the people around him rather than fear. Then he noticed a change that had occurred during his momentary lapse.

Once the change had been discovered, he didn't waste time. His hand moved immediately to his weapons holster, and if the brown eyes across from him noticed, they didn't show any indication until a kunai buried itself in the tree bark that had been behind the boy's head. The pale figure on the tree opposite Itachi dodged the first kunai easily, but missed the second until it hit squarely into its shoulder. The water clone gasped in well acted pain, and then splattered down to the forest floor to form a dark puddle amidst the dried leaves. The abandoned branch where the clone had been standing swayed dejectedly across from the Sharingan user.

Itachi waited a moment, closing his eyes to concentrate on the signature he had learned that morning.

"You couldn't play along?"

Red eyes opened. Itachi looked up. One of the sandals that were either ridiculous or cocky was dangling above his head. He traced it up to the owner and bestowed the That-Wasn't-Amusing glare that Kisame often earned during traveling on the smaller missing nin.

"Uh...Gomen." The third apology in one meeting, but Itachi was beginning to suspect that the apologetic tone wasn't as sincere as the owner made it sound. "I wasn't sure if you wouldn't attack if I came closer on my own."

Itachi noted that the boy made no attempt to come down to his branch. Having lost his advantageous position, the ex-Leaf nin finally allowed himself to move into a more comfortable one. His legs were beginning to ache from staying in the same crouching position, anyway. Itachi moved to sit with his back against the tree's trunk and his head angled upward to watch his target. In the back of his mind, he thought that it was going to be annoying picking the bits of bark out of his hair before bed, but he set that thought aside. Both hands were left free, one resting lightly over his weapons holster in silent warning to the doe-eyed creature above.

As he had before, the boy waited patiently for Itachi to settle himself. Then, the moment the older ninja glanced upward, the boy blurted, "Is he precious to you?"

"He's my partner," Itachi responded readily. He made sure that his voice sounded neutral. The possibility that the boy might have created water clones before seeking him out hadn't occurred to him, much less the thought that he would have been able to maintain them as far anyway from a water source as they were at that moment. Inwardly he scolded himself for making another great mistake for a shinobi: never underestimate your enemy.

"I look at Zabuza-san that way," the boy said. "When he goes out sometimes, and I know he won't be back until morning."

Itachi raised an eyebrow. He didn't like where this was heading. Briefly, he wondered how difficult it would be to catch the other Missing Nin's body if he sent him into a state of unconsciousness, but set the idea aside for the moment. Water clones, he told himself. Be more cautious. To the boy, he simply said, "How does that prove anything?"

The smooth face looked surprised. "Because," the girlish creature said softly, "Zabuza-san never looks that way back."

Itachi didn't say anything. He waited for the boy to say whatever it was that was making his jaw twitch as if his mouth was trying to juggle the words before speaking them. "In four years…" three words out, there were still more that Itachi could see the other's tongue striving to balance, "he hasn't noticed." A pause. Brown eyes looked imploringly down, "Does your partner notice you?"

Itachi felt his shoulders stiffen. His mind clicked into place what the questions were getting at. And then, somehow he lost eye contact. He didn't know why. He'd stared people down before, but somehow he found himself looking at the worn spot on his pant leg. The one right above the knee. From above came:

"He doesn't have any idea, does he?"

The sounds of birds far off could be heard, a strange mix of squawking seagulls from the beach and the tiny, twittering sparrows that inhabited the forest. Itachi raised his eyes up to meet the brown ones again.

_'You're like me.'_

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After becoming a Genin, Kisame quickly forgot what life was like at the Academy. He heard things occasionally. Small things that other people knew from parents who taught there, or siblings who were still completing their formal education. Kisame easily shrugged any news on Academy students off. He'd rather train. What did he care if his teammate's sister was nervous about exams? He didn't know his teammate's sister, and the most that it would affect him would be that if she failed, he would have to cover for the older sister more than usual while she grieved.

Much to his teammate's distress, it just so happened that they had a mission that would take them to the warmer reaches of their island country that would have them leaving on the day of the exam. Momentarily, he thought about the agony his teammate must have felt when they walked out the gates, but it was ignorable. She was the type that tended to stay in the background. After they left the village, Kisame tried not to think about the Academy and its future half slaughtered class, or whether the little girl he heard about would be among the survivors. That was until three days later, when a messenger caught up with them and announced that all shinobi had been temporarily ordered back to the village. Then, suddenly the Academy exams meant a lot.

Though there had been no official order about keeping information from lower ranking ninja at the time, their sensei had had the messenger tell him what happened out of earshot. Looking back, Kisame guessed that must have been for the sake of his teammate. But she found out anyway when they returned to their village. Too many people were talking about it for them to get passed the main gates without hearing the words "massacre" and "academy" linked together. For the first time in his shinobi career, Kisame saw higher ranking ninja at a loss. The Mizukage was gathering the Jounin to him. Genin teams were dismissed and left in confusion, for the most part being as uninformed by their superiors as Kisame's own team. His teammate started running home almost immediately after their teacher told them they could go. Kisame started walking. Not home exactly, he told himself. He just let his feet wander.

He knew that was a lie, though. He told himself he was wandering, but really he knew exactly where he was going: the training building.

The building was closed up when he got their, security tape wrapped thickly enough around the premises to be seen at the end of the street. He told himself not to be surprise. What else could he have expected?

Kisame walked up to the building, and not for the first time, wished he still had his keys. He looked down at the lock that despite its simplicity, managed to keep the building unbreached. There was no jutsu around it, nor any complicated gears. The only thing that kept the small thing from being picked was the advanced alarm system that it was attached to, which was widely advertised around the village. And _that_ was very, very complicated. At least, to a fourteen year old Genin.

He waited by the door, not because he thought he could get in anytime soon, but because he didn't think he would be able to get in at all and didn't know where else to go. The majority of his own family were likely to be called in for whatever meeting the Mizukage was holding. For a second, he started to wonder if his teammate had been able to find anyone at her house, but then he heard something. Footsteps. Fast ones.

Kisame stayed still, back leaned against the wall, as the training building's front door was unceremoniously thrown open and one very disgruntled Chuunin ran out. He lifted an eyebrow as the man ran down the steps to the nearest trash can, where he doubled over and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into the supporting container.

A moment later, calmer footsteps also came echoing down the hall. An older man exited the building a few moments later, walking across the street without making a move to indicate noticing the blue faced teenager still seated on the steps. When he reached the spot where his partner was still vomiting, the gray haired Chuunin said somberly, "Come on, we have to finish our report."

"Can't we finish it by memory!" the smaller one answer back, face still turned into the trash can so that his voice had to echo out of it to reach the other Chuunin's ears.

Kisame didn't care about listening any further. He slipped stealthily around to the door, the gray-blue color of his skin apparently disguise enough against the stone of the building. Inside the training building the temperature was freezing. Kisame thought to himself that it might have been the first time in the building's history that the heaters were shut off, allowing the cold outside to seep in. There were weapons left on the floor and half eaten forms of junk food left out on the counters as if the last people inside had left in a sudden hurry. Yet there was no poison on the air, and no sign of a threat or struggle having taken place before evacuation.

He found himself walking slowly through the building, as he would have on a mission rather than in a place where he spent the bulk of his time off duty. Routine led him down the hallway, towards the Genin locker room, where he would usually go first before training, and also because the design of the building was twisted that way, toward the room that only a few days ago had been the scene of the Academy exams. As he went, he saw other doors left unlocked and left gaping open along the hall as they never would have been on a normal day. More evidence of a sudden departure, but none that indicated a cause.

There was something almost stifling about the hallway without the sounds of clashing metal and the particular s_mack _that only came when skin hit harshly against skin. It seemed too big. Though not to the extent that would eat at a mid-level ninja. Kisame didn't understand what had upset the first Chuunin, but that was before he came to _that _door.

Despite his slow and careful approach, Kisame couldn't make himself go farther in when he looked to his right and saw the open doorway before him, leading into the pure murky blackness of a room that had no natural source of light. He was only a few steps away from the locker room; he remembered hearing other boys talking before he left, claiming that if they listened closely on the test day, they could hear the matches going on in the other room. Kisame wondered if he would see toppled chairs and left behind bags of chips by the wall nearest the test room if he went inside and looked.

But that wasn't what he had come to see. There were footprints coming out of the exam room, darkish brown in color so that they almost appeared black in the dim light of the hallway. Looking downward and staring back the way he came, Kisame counted eight steps before they passed in front of a window, which in turn looked into a lounge that he knew from earlier days was occupied by the same two Jounin every morning until noon. Then the footsteps stopped, and two long, skidding streaks took their place, as if someone had been dragged on until the color source was either scraped off their feet, or one of the Jounin had hefted the person up and carried him the rest of the way out to keep him from struggling.

Looking back into the darkened room, Kisame's nose wrinkled at the stench coming out of it, confirming his suspicions that no one other than the two Chuunin he had seen earlier had come in or out of it in days. That included for the sake of cleaning up the debris of the exam. Kisame couldn't remember if anyone had rushed in to survey the damage inside the room after his own test. He remembered when he had been led inside with his brother and the rest of their class, knowing that it would be hours before the door was unlocked and that only half of the people led in would be able to walk out. He also remembered, with nightmarish clarity, that not all of the killings had gone as quickly as his. The matches between the sharp students and the not so sharp had been easy, but then there were others. The graceful, almost astounding fights between genius students who had somehow been paired together, and then the messy, bloody ones between students whose hearts were clearly not in the killing, but couldn't leave until it was done.

He remembered too, leaving the room afterward. How his eyes had foolishly strayed again and again to the ground, observing the multitude of gleaming red marks that were left behind by his classmates' sandals. It seemed strange that they could leave so many marks when their numbers had just been reduced by half. Later he supposed that he had been in shock. But it had clearly imprinted into his mind what the floor was supposed to look like after the exam. It was supposed to be nearly dyed with the patterns of a hundred overlapping footprints. But here, in the present, there was only one set. Eight steps, four per foot before the streaks began. And then after that there was nothing.

Kisame shivered. He turned back towards the door and took one step closer. The odor of blood and decay was overwhelming with his face turned directly toward it. Reaching out with a blue hand, Kisame took hold of the door and turned it back towards its frame, both blocking off the source of the smell, and allowing him to examine the lock on the outside. He looked over the front of the door carefully, trying to spot scratches around the handle, or smell the grease that might have been applied to loosen the gears of the lock. It was a feeble hope...

"Find anything?"

Kisame spun around quickly, nearly throwing the door back into its earlier place while doing so. When he was an elite Jounin, he would look back on how easily he was snuck up upon and shake his head sadly.

His teacher was standing behind him, leaning casually against the wall and watching him with his mouth in a grim line. Kisame straightened up and told himself not to glare at the higher ranking shinobi. He shook his head in answer to his sensei's question.

There was a half staged sigh in response. "Pity. We're having trouble discovering how he got in." At Kisame's questioning look, the older man raised an eyebrow. "You haven't heard the story? There was a massacre here the day we left. It appears a civilian boy is responsible for it. Witnesses saw him come out alone. Scrawny guy. Could be put together with sticks."

Kisame didn't say anything. His sensei continued to watch him carefully.

"We think he might have gone inside," the older man indicated the room behind his student with a bob of his chin, "the night before. The Academy teachers certainly didn't see him slip in with their classes when they brought them in." His teacher gave Kisame a look that made him wonder if he was expected to say something in response, but he didn't do so. "It's odd, isn't it?" the older man went on, "In the one part of the village where shinobi are supposed to be constantly on their guard, not one of them remembers seeing a dirty faced boy walk in off the street. It's making a lot of the council members nervous."

Pause.

"None of the alarms went off either," he added.

Kisame agreed quietly, trying not to look behind him at the door. Yes, it was strange. Almost embarrassing. Someone should have seen him.

He hoped he didn't look guilty.

Finally the older man gave up. Kisame was relieved. "Just so you know," he said, and then let the subject close. The Jounin pushed off the wall and indicated back down the hallway, again with his chin. "You shouldn't be in here. We're still investigating."

"Hai," Kisame said slowly. Then added, "I'll just be a minute." His teacher, who had already turned away, glanced back at him over his shoulder. "There's something I need to get."

Another sigh. "Make it quick. I can't explain to the investigators why there's a Genin on their crime scene."

Kisame bowed his head to his teacher, then turned around and hurried into the rookie locker room. Vaguely he acknowledged that his earlier suspicion had been true. There were chips and things left behind by teenage boys eager to hear the sounds of a fight on the other side of the tile-plated wall. He didn't spare it more than a glance though. He went directly to his own locker, the third one to the end in the back row.

He told himself not to be surprised when he opened the small cabinet and saw a shining ring of keys hanging from the hook usually meant for a towel. He stared at them quietly for a moment, unmoving and trying to coax himself to breathe.

He decided not to take the keys out of the locker when he finally went out to meet his teacher. He knew that if he did, he would start counting them before he even got out of the godforsaken snow, and if his sensei didn't notice them and take them away, he would have to know if his suspicion was correct. That he would find one key missing, one that might even at that moment be crusting over in a drying puddle of blood down the hall.

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Kisame came back to the present easily. Or rather, he took the one part of his awareness away from reminiscing and returned it to what the rest of his mind was focused on. Being a shinobi in any village meant developing a sense of split-mindedness. It was one of the basics that were drilled into children from the very beginning of their schooling. Especially in the Mist, after a civilian street rat had mysteriously waltzed his way into a building filled with every status of shinobi from ANBU to over-eager Genin.

Kisame hopped onto a particularly sturdy looking tree branch to catch his breath. He could have sworn that he had been all over this island twice by now without spotting a trace of Itachi. Despite having a memory filled with examples of his partner's competence, Kisame couldn't help it: he was getting worried. There were no signs of a struggle back where he had left him with their captive earlier. The only indication that anyone had been there at all were the scattered remaining needles of what had once been the pile he made of their target's weapons. It would seem that the kid had taken off in a hurry to get back to his beloved "guardian," which had very likely been what saved Zabuza's unworthy life.

Kisame shook his head. As much as he disliked it, Zabuza probably knew that he was on the island by now. Which did not do much to support the idea of resting when he was currently separated from his partner. Getting up, Kisame prepared to launch into another hour of springing from tree to tree, when his awareness suddenly picked up a chakra source.

Kisame took a moment, not trying to identify it, but rather trying to explain it. The signature was obviously Itachi, after all the time he'd spent with the prim and proper younger ninja it would have been impossible for him not to recognize it. What made him hesitate was the fact that it had come up so bluntly. It wasn't particularly close to where he was, but it was _obvious. _Like a candle suddenly light in a room without windows in the middle of a very, very cloudy night. _Anyone _could read it.

Frowning but needing to find his partner soon, Kisame started toward it. It wasn't like Itachi to be so careless. Particularly when they were in danger of jeopardizing their mission. Which brought him back to the reason he'd gone looking for the Uchiha in the first place…

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Yo! Look, an update! I'm not dead!

Guess what everyone? I found out only after writing out the rough draft of this chapter that there aren't exactly a lot of Japanese names starting with the letter P...So why don't we all just pretend that Kisame's mommy was Chinese, instead? And also, I'm sorry about the use of original characters in this chapter. Normally I'm very clear about thinking that original characters should stay in original fiction, but I couldn't exactly find a lot of background information on Kisame. I hope nobody got too annoyed.

And one more thing. SInce i know how easy it is for bad granmar to ruin a story for the reader, I am seeking a beta to help me catch all my mistakes before I post them online. If any would be willing to help me out, please contact me, 'kay? I swear I'll try to update more often!

And now for the reveiw responces!

Vicious-Loner: Thanks for reading the chapter all the way through. I wonder how many people just up and quit beforethey figured out that that wasn't an OC? (I know that I probably would have stopped reading somewhere in that). I hope that this chapter was an acceptable second.

Merani: YES, HE IS! Don't worry. There shall be no KisaHaku in this story. Mainly because KisaIta is my life. If there was an avatar of KisaIta, I would so bare it child.

Hiza-chan: Glad you loved it. Here's more.

Smoking Panda: Hello again. I'm sorry to say that there was no school girl referances in this chapter, though someone did give me a very interesting suggestion involving a cheerleader castume and a set of fluffy pompoms. Any ideas on how I can work that into the story?

Kodoku: I hope that I didn't run you off will all the back stroy on Kisame in this chapter. i figured the guy deserved a little time in the limelight, right? And aslo, well, I don't know about you, but I certainly wouldn't want to be the one that told Itachi about the birds and the bees. Gee...I wonder what poor Sasuke did when he reached that age...Anyway, I especailly enjoyed receiving your review. I love getting sucked into fanfiction, and it thrills me to hear that I'm providing the same kind of experance for others. Please review me again. I'd do a puppy face, except this is a computer.

minn yun: Miss me? I'm sorry to say that I lack the artistic ablity to draw the comic you mentioned. I tried to track it down so I could see it for myself, but unfortunately it didn't work (it sounded interesting). Especailly if it roped in a new KisaIta fan! There are so few of us out there...I liekd reading you analization of my chapter too. Unfortunately, I already had the title "Weaknesses" from posting on another site. But the title does have potental. I'll try and see if I can use it later on, ne?

Depressed Mizuki: Yay! I'd hug you if I could! I was ridiculously nervous about being too vague on Haku's identy. I even used his name in this chapter even though I haven't written with Kisame or Itachi learning it yet. And in responce to your rant...Eh, everyone shudders at the sight of their old work (I just looked back at the last chapter the other night. I think I might have started choking with embarassment at the last section).I hope that you found this chapter alright, it didn't get as much attention as the last one. But anyway...Good luck on increasing the lengths of your chapters. And thanks for being the first person to review LOOK AT ME!

Okay. That's all for now. Suggestions and currections are welcome.


	3. chapter 3

Still sitting on the tree branch in the middle of nowhere, Itachi felt more like a child at a park than he had when he actually _was_ a child being taken to the park. True, that might be credited to the fact that Itachi had very rarely been given the chance to climb trees as a child without being ordered to mold chakra, but there were few other things that he could think to compare his situation to as he sat on a branch beneath an uncannily amiable boy, who god only knew why no one had killed yet. Worse, there was a voice sniggering at the back of his mind that the all-powerful Uchiha had been muted by a simple seven word sentence.

_"He doesn't have any idea, does he?"_

Distantly, Itachi was aware that Kisame had gotten closer than before. Still miles off, but closer. He reached out towards the shark nin halfheartedly, telling himself that even a weak string of chakra should be enough to get Kisame's attention, and trying to snuff the voice that was gnawing at the edge of his mind about foolishness, and stupidity, and water clones.

It didn't work.

His target showed no sign of having felt the before mentioned effort toward Kisame. With an eager expression and bright eyes, the boy looked imploringly down at the infamous murderer of the Uchiha clan. "When did you know?"

Itachi wondered just how many times Zabuza let his ward socialize with someone outside the confines of their work. There was something conspicuously wrong when a living tool began seeking out enemies to gush about his secret crush...

"I knew almost instantly," the large eyed boy went on quickly, apparently having by now learned that Itachi's answers were rare and not to be waited too long for. "I was living on the streets at the time. I thought I would probably die there…" _Exaggeration_, Itachi, having been to the Mist rarely, and during the warmer seasons, snickered inwardly. "When we met, he said he wanted a tool, and because of my blood..."

The boy stopped on the last word a little too abruptly, and earned a raised eyebrow from the wielder of one of Konoha's most renowned bloodline abilities.

"He said that he wanted a _tool,_" the boy amended quickly, "but I sometimes think that he probably just wanted somebody to travel with. He used to travel with a large group, from what I've gotten him to tell me about his life before. But then the entire group was disbanded, so he couldn't stay with anyone. And I think there was one teammate in particular..."

The boy went back to prattling about his partner. Itachi quickly lost interest. He let his head lower to a normal angle, assuring himself that the day he began spilling out about his partner to whoever would listen was the day he would gorge his eyes out with a hairclip. But then one sentence caught his half-listening ear.

"I think that he was one of the leaders in the swordsmen conspiracy. There were rumors that even urchins were able to pick up on, and I think..."

Itachi frowned as he scanned his memory for all he knew about Kisame's homeland. The Leaf made a point of briefing its Jounin on the affairs of other countries, particularly the captains of ANBU teams, who were most often sent out on fatal missions into those countries. He had been a relatively new addition to the latter group when he left his village, but he had been there long enough to hear about what had only been whispers of a revolution plot in the Mist, rumors that Kisame later confirmed to be true when they met shortly after. Itachi strained his memories of his ANBU days further, when it was a matter of duty to know the on goings in other shinobi villages. However, the chances of the Hidden Village of the Mist having _two _organizations of swordsmen that tried and failed to usurp the Mizukage, and the chances that Itachi would have only heard of one were unlikely.

"What organization was it?"

For a moment, the fifteen year old looked surprised at Itachi's sudden contribution to the conversation. The boy replied quickly, "Civilians didn't know much about shinobi back then." The small, perfectly straight teeth in the boy's mouth looked as if they would have liked nothing better than to sink into the corner of his lower lip under Itachi's practiced, unwavering stare. "It was for elite shinobi," he offered hesitantly. "People who fought with swords, like him."  
"The Seven Swordsmen of the Mist?" Itachi supplied. The sudden remembrance of the boy's loyalty to his partner, now that he apparently remembered that he was not talking to an ally, annoyed him.

As Itachi expected there would be, there was more restraint in the boy's polite voice when he answered. "Hai, that was it." A small nod. "I'm not sure if any of its members were ever caught, but we've been gone for a long time. I found a picture of the team when it was first started in Zabuza-san's pack once-"

"When was it disbanded?" Itachi interrupted again, not willing to let the conversation be wheeled away towards trivial banter again. Inwardly, he pulled up the stiff reaction his shark-like partner had shown to their assignment, his stubborn insistence that they could execute the entire mission without confronting their target's partner, of whom Kisame had denied having any prior knowledge. Who just happened to have belonged to an organization specializing in the use of swords, that was also disbanded after an alleged plot against the Mizukage.

"The group was spilt up four years ago," the boy said above him, confused. Itachi imagined him trying to phrase a polite way to tell him to stop asking uncomfortable questions. "Right before I met him."

While Itachi inwardly pieced together the thoughts going through his mind, he remembered that Kisame was somewhere in reach, though since the last time he checked, the shark nin didn't seem to have come any closer to where Itachi was still sitting with the object of their current mission. Momentarily, the thought of reaching out for him again was tempting, but the appeal vanished quickly.

"Are you alright…?" his target said, apparently noticing a change in the older ninja seated below him. Halfway through his question, he stopped, realizing that he was missing a very trivial detail about his conversation partner. His voice returned to the affable tone that made the boy seem more like a friendly school aged girl than a shinobi. "Gomen, I don't know what to call you."

"Itachi." Itachi's mouth answered without permission. The engrained sense of duty was telling him he should make a real effort to get Kisame's attention, keeping his mind occupied just long enough to keep him from withholding his name from his target. Afterward, he had a sudden irresistible urge to push aside his forehead protector and hit himself with the blunt end of a kunai.

"Itachi-san," the boy said as if testing Itachi's name to see it if was satisfactory. Then, returning the privilege, "My name is Haku."

"Hn," Itachi decided to give no indication of having heard the name. He made a _slightly _bolder attempt to get Kisame's attention with chakra. If he were to look up, he had a feeling that he would see Haku sitting there, looking down at him without showing any sign of noticing.

"Zabuza-san's wounds had me worried earlier," Haku said at the lapse in conversation.

"Hn."

Was Kisame even _trying _to find him?

"I think he's probably going to be out for awhile. Gato might even not want us to finish our mission." Itachi heard the sound of the boy's body shifting on the branch above him, though he was scarcely able to see any movement. "I'd rather we didn't finish it," he confided testily, "but Zabuza-san wants to. He's always right, but I'd rather we got back to working towards his goals." Another pause. Waiting. Itachi felt the other's eyes on his face, but he himself was focused elsewhere. "He's always said that one day we would go back, and that maybe after he kills the Mizukage, his old teammates would return."

One final pause. When the false hunter nin of the Mist spoke next, he finally got Itachi's attention to pull back from monitoring the steadily growing amount of chakra he was expending, by the sheer bluntness. Itachi didn't even hear the boy draw breath before the words jerked him to awareness:

"You're not after Zabuza-san."

The tone registered immediately. Putting the words together too and devising a suitable meaning from them took a moment longer. Itachi looked up into the pale face of his target. Around the edges of the boy's hitai-ate, his forehead had wrinkled. The chocolate eyes that were staring down at him were narrowed in something that bordered on confusion, as if he were both waiting for a correction and at the same time was certain there wasn't one. To himself, Itachi thought that the look didn't suit the angelic features at all.

"If you were after Zabuza-san," Haku said tentatively, explaining his reasoning though Itachi hadn't asked him to, "you wouldn't need me to tell you about his past. You would already know. And…you wouldn't be trying to reach your partner while I'm talking about injuries. Which means," Doe-like eyes stared widely down at Itachi, waiting for a nod or even a blink of acknowledgement, "...you're after me."

In that moment, two thoughts went through the Sharingan user's mind. The first was a brief monologue to himself asking what part of being captured and chained at the crack of dawn that morning could possibly make this girlish excuse for a shinobi think he was after _Zabuza_?The other was formed when Itachi noted the shift in the steadily deepening lines in his target's forehead: he was definitely ready for Kisame to find him. Especially since it looked as if Haku was about to have a mental breakdown over the astounding revelation that, like his master, he was capable of being hunted down.

"Who?"

Itachi inwardly blinked. Harsh didn't suit Haku's voice well either. Haku's hand, which had been holding onto a slightly underdeveloped branch near his head balance, tightened notably. Looking up, Itachi couldn't help seeing it as the hand's owner demanded, "Who discovered me?"

In response, Itachi moved so that he was in a somewhat better position to attack if he needed to before Kisame arrived. Eyes remaining on the delicate hand, he instructed as if he were speaking to a small child, "I can't tell you that."

The red eyed ninja thought he heard what sounded like a snort cut off in a mid progress because the maker was too polite to actually commit to it. "You're lying," Haku stated in his less effeminate sounding voice. "You don't belong to a village," the dark brown eyes flicked toward Itachi's hitai-ate, "you're not bound by client loyalty."

Itachi weighed his odds between using a kunai or his Sharingan. There was no doubt that if he attacked, Haku would be faster. But the fact that they were in close proximity could be in Itachi's favor. He wondered if he would be able to use his Mangekyou against the younger missing nin if the boy hadn't been looking at something above the Uchiha's head at that moment. Itachi wasn't foolish enough to turn around and see just what it was. Reaching as discretely as possible toward his weapons holster, unsure when he had hand taken his hand off it before, Itachi kept his attention on monitoring the level of Haku's awareness.

Haku still ranted as before, now more to himself than Itachi. Another shinobi mistake. The Uchiha could almost pity him. "I was always in disguise when we traveled through towns together, and when we where on the nomad roads too-"

Itachi wasn't sure what gave him away. His target was unnerved, ignoring his surroundings, and even in the act of speaking when he attacked. It should have been an easy victory for someone who had learned to make killing an art form before hitting puberty. But then again, so had Haku. The fifteen year old saw the moment the kunai came at him, dodged it, and sprang off onto a farther branch. Itachi began to follow, but within seconds was attack by two separate bodies, and the malicious little voice in his head sneered, "_Water clones."_

One clone had sprung up behind and wrapped itself around Itachi's shoulders, seeming more intent on pulling Itachi toward the solid ground below than attacking. Which it did, for a moment before Itachi's chakra control kicked in and he secured himself to the side of the tree branch he had been standing on. Then the other clone attacked him from the front, just as the Uchiha's hands went to remove the strangling grasp of the first, and he was knocked down again. This time, Itachi did lose his footing, the combined weight of the clones forcing him to fall back. The hands of the first clone seemed intent on securing themselves around his neck, while the second grasped around Itachi's torso, trying to grab onto his arms to keep him from moving them. He might have gone down if his shin hadn't collided roughly with the trunk of Haku's tree, just a second long enough for chakra to flare and cling to the rough surface. The action, done with only the thought of clinging on, wasted more chakra than it used. If Kisame couldn't see the excess chakra from that, then he was either blind or Zabuza had managed to kill him. But the Uchiha didn't have time to monitor his partner's whereabouts after he stopped himself from falling. The clones still held onto him. The one at his back banged against the trunk when gravity pulled the Uchiha's upper body back, which Itachi added force to so that when he hit, the clone was savagely crushed. He felt the telltale splash of water that told him the clone was gone, and then turned his attention to the one that was scrambling for a good hold on his cloak.

He looked up into the clone's face, relying on Haku's earlier lack of fear in meeting his eyes, but the clone didn't look up. Itachi's next resort was to bash his own forehead into the clone's to get the thing off balance enough to flip over and trap it against the tree. Itachi's body protested the movement, particularly the leg that was scraped raw from catching onto the trunk. Itachi didn't have a chance to look down the trunk, but he was sure that if he did there would be a crater in the bark in the shape of his calf. When the clone was pinned, the Uchiha drew out another kunai, probably one of his last remaining, and plunged it into the faulty creature's chest.

When he stood up his breath came out harder than he would have liked. But other than an ignorable burning sensation where there should have been skin on his leg, he was unharmed. Next time Haku should think about giving his clones weapons.

He was entirely shocked when he felt the massive hand clamp down on his shoulder, thick fingers closing around flesh and bone as if they it was clay they wanted to mold to match their shape. Itachi kept his footing on the bark when he was jerked around, only by sheer will not losing control of chakra. While he was in motion, he managed to raise the arm that still had his remaining kunai and attempted to take aim. But even while doing so, his eye caught on the glint of sunlight on a long slender weapon already angled at him in turn.

When he was facing his attacker, the tip of an insanely large needle bit into the skin somewhere around the upper half of his chest. Itachi's arm went limp, swinging away from his body to dangle uselessly above the ground. The needle dug in deeper, deeper, until he thought that it would pierce through entirely.

It was only when he was let go that exhaustion finally rose up to take him. Before he hit the ground, he forced himself to memorize the form that hovered above him. Tall, muscled, with a meat-cleaver sword peeking above its wielder's head and shoulders, and the frayed edges of torn bandages hanging around the lower half of his face. The instant before impact came, Itachi registered that he was looking at Kisame's last partner; the man that had his target dutifully noting his every word. Momochi Zabuza.

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There are very few times that Uchiha Itachi succumbs to acting his age. Kisame had gotten used to seeing the ever so slight expression of shock come over the faces of other shinobi, or even civilians, when they met with the seventeen year old killer. Itachi's jaded attitude simply didn't fit with the number of years he had been alive. As for Kisame himself, he personally didn't care much about his partner's age. So long as the Uchiha prodigy could hold his own, what did it matter? Kisame didn't share in the amazement that others did about his partner's age... though the cause of that, he guessed, could be credited to the fact that when Itachi _did_ lapse into acting his age, Kisame just happened to be present to watch.

Take for instance, when Itachi abruptly threw himself into an attack against a fifteen year old that had already escaped him once the same morning, and completely missed seeing the clones that were stationed in the tree behind him. Kisame watched the scene play out from a safe distance. He couldn't hear what the two missing nin across from him were saying, and for the most part had assumed that his arrival had been unnoticed. Up until their target's eyes had settled on him over Itachi's head. Whether the Uchiha prodigy himself had noticed, Kisame wasn't sure. Their target's mouth continued to move without pausing, expression and posture betraying nothing--and then Itachi threw himself at the object of their mission without warning.

Kisame started to rise, intending to follow their target when he saw that the impersonating Hunter Nin was not going to stay and watch the clones fight. Even at his worst, Kisame knew, there was no way that Itachi would let himself be killed by a couple of water clones. But as the shark nin was rising out of his crouch to chase after Haku, he froze when he felt, for the second time that day, an alarmingly familiar presence.

Zabuza.

There was no attempt being made to hide the signature, but Itachi didn't notice. He was falling through the air, trying to stop his descent while at the same time fending off the clinging copies of their target. But even if he hadn't been distracted, Itachi had never met Zabuza and because of that, never would have recognized the chilling aura that the ex Demon of the Mist managed to infuse in the air around him.

Haku was immediately forgotten the moment Kisame saw Zabuza appear on the tree. Whether he had teleported or just cast off an illusion technique, Kisame didn't know or care. Either would have been characteristic. But Itachi was still too distracted to notice the Mist's legendary expert in the art of Silent Killing approach. When Itachi stood up on the tree's trunk, Kisame could see that the back of his cloak was soaked from smashing the first of the copies. His partner also seemed to be favoring his right leg. _With good reason_, Kisame thought as he noticed the chakra-induced groove a few feet lower on the trunk. But when fatigue made the Sharingan user lower his arms to his sides, Kisame held his position despite urges not to. He franticly sent out the warning to his partner, roaring for Itachi to keep his weapon up and turn around, despite knowing that the other ninja wouldn't hear.

When Zabuza was less than an arm's length from Itachi, the shark nin slipped a hand carefully into his weapons holster so not to make a sound that would give him away. Zabuza had always had extraordinary hearing. Kisame wasn't a long distance fighter. As he took aim, he waited for the opportune moment, hoping that if he attacked from a distance he wouldn't be seen by the same stony black eyes that had stopped him in his tracks in the middle of a snowstorm.

His timing was a second off. He watched as his old teammate's hand gripped and spun his newer partner around, and saw the needle as it was plunged into the Uchiha prodigy's chest. Kisame's own weapon found its mark right after, the razor edges of the shuriken sinking into the flesh of Zabuza's arm, even as Itachi's eyes unfocused and closed.

Before his ex-team member could react, Kisame relocated. It was on instinct, a rule that every shinobi regardless of origin knew to do so that their enemy wouldn't discover them by following the trail of a thrown weapon. But he might as well not have bothered. After the attack the other exiled ninja's arm fell, as limp and useless as Itachi's. Head turning to stare in the direction that the shuriken had come from, Zabuza let Itachi's body fall to the ground as if it were an abandoned rag doll. The bandaged nin followed a second later, landing in the leaves just inches from the unconscious Sharingan user.

It took Kisame a minute to remember that his ex-teammate had already been killed once that day, more or less, and gave credit to the fact that Zabuza was even walking at all. But he was given the opportunity to stare for less time than it took to remember that insignificant fact. He heard rustling leaves in the surrounding trees, and then saw the doe-eyed boy that he and Itachi were supposed to have already captured hop down from his perch above the scene. Whether he knew that Kisame was still present, he gave no indication. He went straight to where his master had landed. Kisame thought he could hear the boy mutter something to himself before he hefted his partner's form over his own, and with a combination of several one-handed symbols, disappeared in a puff of lavender smoke.

_Go after them, _was he first instinct. His hands were even in the process of forming the seals to follow them, before he stopped himself. According to the Akatsuki, going directly after his target would have been the obvious action at that moment, but unlike Itachi, Kisame was perfectly fine with straying from regulations on certain matters. And even if it wasn't practiced in the Akatsuki, Kisame was more than willing to pretend that there was a rule against leaving your partner unconscious, bleeding, and potentially dead in the middle of nowhere with a needle half the size of his arm sticking out of his chest.

Climbing down to the forest floor, Kisame knelt in the leaves beside his partner. Thankfully, Zabuza had probably been aiming with the expectation of more of a struggle from the Uchiha, making his needle hit closer to Itachi's shoulder than his heart. Kisame relaxed a little. Itachi had also landed on his back when Zabuza dropped him, instead of forcing the needle in deeper by landing face down or on his side. But if there was a certain way that the needle needed to come out, for whatever reasons, the shark nin didn't know it. When one becomes an elite ninja in almost any village there is a brief course required on basic medic skills to reduce the number of loses on team missions, but that class, like so many other non-physical ones, had not been Kisame's best. So it was only after putting caution aside that the blue skinned shinobi did what seemed most logical to him. He put one hand on the Uchiha's chest, grabbed the end of the needle with the other, and yanked it out in one swift movement that made the younger ninja's entire body flinch.

Almost instantly reacting to the pain, Itachi's eyelids split open. Kisame stayed still as the Sharingan eyes darted to him, checking to see if the person leaning over him was recognizable, that he was not an enemy, then slid shut. When they had first met, Kisame hadn't been sure what to think of that small flicker of awareness that managed to spring up regardless of how exhausted the Uchiha managed make himself, but he didn't mind it. Kisame just made sure to be standing within seeing range whenever he needed to find a medic nin or physician to stitch his unconscious partner back together after a particularly draining mission. After the moment passed, Itachi's body returned to its listless state as the seventeen year old promptly slipped back into oblivion.

Tossing the needle aside, Kisame slid his arm under Itachi's shoulders and lifted the dark haired, currently helpless, shinobi into a somewhat sitting position. Holding the pale body in place with one hand, Kisame stripped off articles of clothing with the other. First the Akatsuki cloak, then the fishnet shirt and the black tank top. Moving the fabric smeared blood around the puncture wound, the flow of which had probably been increased by the removal of the needle. Kisame noticed as he watched the smeared trail replenish itself that it didn't seem to be in any hurry to stop either. In seconds, blood was flowing down the Itachi's torso, tinting the waistband of his pants a deep shade of red.

Kisame cursed. Digging around in a hidden pocket of his own cloak, the shark nin produced a roll of temporary bandages that would have to do until they could find an actual doctor in the village. One learns very quickly while traveling with an ever-so-slightly psychotic killer that preparing for unexpected injuries was in the best interest for maintaining their partnership. Or at least preparing for more unexpected injuries than what would _usually_ be seen on certain missions. Still holding Itachi's upper body off the ground, Kisame went to work wrapping the thin bandages around his chest to cover the still-bleeding hole in his shoulder. Kisame continued wrapping them around until the roll was nearly gone, not liking the speed with which the red fluid stained through the layers. After he tied the bandages off, he pressed the palm of his hand against the wound, applying pressure to force the puncture into stemming its flow. Itachi's unconscious reaction was probably due to the way he was being held. Kisame had one arm wrapped around his shoulders, so that the Uchiha would stay upright while he worked on his shoulder. When the pressure was applied, the smaller shinobi's body shifted uncomfortably, burrowing closer to the shark nin's chest. Kisame chose to ignore the way his partner's head fell on his shoulder, moaning in what might have been an unconscious attempt to ward him off. Kisame decided that when his partner finally calmed down again, he looked, if anything, younger than he really was. Itachi was still clinging to his shoulder when his breathing subsided, signaling that he was out completely and that it was now safe for Kisame to move him. Once in the early years of their partnership, Itachi had sprung awake suddenly when Kisame had unintentionally dragged the edge of his partner's bedroll with him when he walked by, and he had had to dodge a shuriken that was thrown by one disgruntled and half asleep Uchiha. Itachi was not a deep sleeper. It was only during those few moments that Itachi managed to work himself into a state of exhaustion that he became as close to docile as he was capable of coming.

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There are only so many times in Uchiha Itachi's memory that he can't help admitting that he foolishly gave up his control on a situation and came out the worse for it. For example, the time he tried to test the results of a certain trip to a bathhouse with Kisame by accepting an invitation to go with a certain greasy-haired, snake-loving comrade. Another was when he attacked Haku and then later was attacked by Haku's partner in turn. Then, there was another that happened on the ninth of June, one month and three weeks before Itachi and Kisame were offered the mission from the Mist.

The day itself held little significance for the Uchiha prodigy, other than the fact that now he was seventeen instead of sixteen, and thus one step closer to relieving the incredulous stares that he received when confronting peers that didn't known to research their enemies or comrades before confronting them. Since leaving behind his life in the Hidden Village of the Leaf, Itachi had almost ceased noticing his birthday at all. _Almost, _because on one occasion Kisame had asked and apparently told others about his birth date. Since then, Itachi was reminded by the subdued "happy birthday" wishes of Sasori and Zetsu, the more energetic one from Deidara, and the more sincere one from Kisame. One year Orochimaru went as far as to have a box of chocolates delivered to his apartment. Fortunately, Itachi's roommate, a civilian college student who was more than happy to refrain from questioning Itachi's means of income and his frequent vacations, had forgotten to read the note that had come with the box and devoured its contents before Itachi had even noticed. Two months later, long enough for Itachi to go away for work and then come back again, Itachi's roommate was still half-conscious and murmuring things about petting smiling snakes in the hospital. Every year since then, Orochimaru was assigned a long term mission just before the second week of June. Itachi took that as the Leader's personal way of observing the date.

Whether that tradition regarding Orochimaru's removal was kept the day Itachi turned seventeen, he had no idea. The only person from their organization that Itachi had seen that day for more than the span of a passing glance was Kisame. They were traveling over the few miles that separated the civilian city from Akatsuki's mountain base, when Kisame stopped them a few miles after leaving civilization. His reason...

"You _forgot_ to write your report?"

...Less than valid, in the Uchiha's opinion.

It was a personal habit that Itachi developed while growing up in an ambitious and over-zealous family, to do everything in his power to finish a mission quickly and efficiently. That included the written portion of it. That was why it often happened that almost as soon as Itachi's hand dropped a kunai, it picked up a pen. Often enough while growing up, Itachi's father had pointed to a particular silver-haired Jounin as an example of exactly what to _never under any circumstances_ _do_, which covered everything from finishing his reports on time to dyeing his hair.

Kisame, it seemed to Itachi, was never under the same pressure to excel. The shark man's approach to the written portion of their profession was entirely different. On one occasion, Itachi was sure that he had heard the Leader grumbling about seeing Kisame furiously scribbling his report in the hallway before turning it in and thanking Kami that he was partnered with a perfectionist writer.

However, just because the Uchiha prodigy was aware of the fact did not take away from his annoyance with it.

"What stopped you from writing it last night?"

"...I was busy." Kisame was already looking for a good place to sit down. "Anyway, what's the rush? Got a date?"

"Hn." Itachi followed his partner off the trail. He indicated with his lack of comment that _of course_ he didn't care if they needed to wait for his partner to write what he should have written the night before when they were in their hotel room _instead_ of going straight to sleep.

They settled in a clearing a good distance away from the road tourists used when they wanted to go site-seeing in the mountains, and Kisame, with the resigned look of a child who had been forced to go to school despite forging illness, took out a pen and paper. They could hear the steady sound of the river nearby that came out from the mountains to feed into the city's water supply.

By habit, the two preferred to travel near water. Part of the reason was for the better supply of drinking water and smaller animals to hunt if food became an issue, and also partly to accommodate Itachi's morning rituals, which took place regardless of whether they could find a hotel room. The latter reason often made Kisame uncomfortable, especially after his younger partner discovered scented shampoos. When Itachi was sixteen, the shark nin finally broke his resolve not to touch the subject of his partner's vanity and told Itachi less than subtly that he did not want to be killed by a hunter nin that smelled some fruity hair product downstream. The passive-faced Uchiha had calmly brushed his partner's worries off and heard Kisame grumbling to himself that that was easy for Itachi to say, the Leaf preferred to bring their missing nin back _alive. _Nearly a year later Kisame still shot Itachi a disapproving glance whenever they camped near a water source, and Itachi still coyly pretended that his hair did not smell like peaches n' cream in the morning.

When Kisame sat down to start his report, the heat customary for midsummer in the River Country was already reaching its usual temperature, and, Itachi felt, expanding on it. As soon as Kisame had sat down, the shark nin had shed his dark cloak for obvious reasons. In contrast, Itachi preferred not to remove any clothing if possible. Even if he had applied sun block earlier (which of course, he had), that had been hours ago, and Itachi was far too aware of his pale complexion to risk sunburn. Or worse, tanning. So he found a place secure in the shade and sat down, cloak, hat, and all.

Kisame looked up from his task when he heard the undignified _thunk _of Itachi's head slumping against the tree at his back. After a moment during which Itachi glared at the raised eyebrow he got, the shark shinobi made the suggestion that he could turn both their reports in and let Itachi go back to the city until their next mission was assigned.

Itachi turned him down, knowing that Kisame would interpret the answer as typical for his workaholic partner. Inwardly, Itachi corrected that his reason had more to do with the fact that his main source of a life outside work was sitting five feet away in a skin-tight black tank top.

But after another five minutes of watching his younger partner's face slowly turn red from the heat, Kisame looked up again to half-growl that he had no plans to carry the Uchiha prodigy back to home base, and that if he wasn't going to be sensible enough to take off his blasted coat, then he better go cool down somehow.

"Hn."

Kisame looked exasperated for a moment, then shrugged as if to say, _'Fine, have it your way.'_

Another twelve minutes in the sun saw Itachi walking down toward the river. When the Uchiha had stood to rummage through his pack for a towel, he was certain that he saw a smug smile spring to his partner's lips. He even imagined he heard the shark nin murmur to himself, "Enjoy, Itachi-san."

When he was walking in the river's direction, he thought that he would probably just get his hands wet, or possibly splash a little of the water over his face to rinse off the sweat. However, kneeling at the water's edge, Itachi noted that the sleeves of his cloak would dip in the water if he tried to touch it, and pushing the sleeves up his arms did no good; the fabric was too thick to stay scrunched at his elbows for long. So, with a wary glance at the sun as if it could be intimidated into submission, the Uchiha stood and slowly removed what Kisame referred to as his "blasted cloak." He had to remind himself that he had put sunscreen on earlier. He would be alright for just a few minutes...

The feeling of relief that the air had against his skin was instant. To the point that when Itachi reached again to dip his fingers in the water, it took less mental persuasion to make him remove his net shirt. Clothing removal progressed from there, thoughts of sunrays losing against the seductive feeling of warm air against skin. The only one nearby was Kisame anyway, and depending on how inspired the ex-Mist shinobi was feeling, that could mean there were hours to spare (Itachi had caught the shark nin drawing stick figure comics in the margins of a half finished report on not just one occasion). And frankly, once in the water the thought of getting out was less than tempting because simply, it was _hot._

Itachi allowed himself to sink beneath the water's surface at first, swimming out to the center of the river until fighting the never-ceasing current in order to stay in the same place lost its appeal. Then he moved into shallower waters, first only so he could stand, then to where he could sit and lay back against the slopped sand at the water's edge, so that his head and chest were on dry ground, but the cool water still rose to cover everything below.

A few days later when Itachi looked in a mirror and noticed that his chest was distinctly darker than his back, he would frown inwardly and wonder exactly where his caution of the sun had gone.

Laying on his back in the sand, Itachi let his eyes lazily stare up into the blue sky, one hand occasionally dipping into the water to dribble droplets of moisture onto his unprotected chest, mind drifting. And in Uchiha Itachi's case, a drifting mind that forgot which thoughts were safe and which had been condemned to that corner of his mind that was labeled "To Consider When Off Duty _Only,_" was a very dangerous thing. Especially when his eyes were staring up into something that was an unblemished, clear blue.

Itachi wondered how far into his report Kisame must have been by then, and how much time that left him in the water. The Akatsuki uniform really was ridiculous in some climates, Itachi had to admit. In cold climates like the Mist or Snow countries, the cloaks were too light to provide any real warmth except during what would be considered springtime weather for those regions, while in warmer places like the Leaf and Sand the garment was not only heavy and bulky, but also fairly well know for their designs. The fact that their organization made it a rule that its members were obliged to wear their uniforms at all times was absurd. He had seen Kisame disobey the rule in the name of personal comfort since the day their uniforms were distributed, and his own concerns about too much sunlight put aside, Itachi agreed that the changes were more than acceptable. At least for hot days...

Another part of the uniform that Kisame often refused to wear was the fishnet overshirt. Unlike the cloak, which Kisame restrained himself to only casting aside in extremely hot weather, Itachi suspected that the fishnet might have been burned as soon as it was issued to the ex-Mist nin. When Deidara once commented, Kisame made the excuse that he was a swordsman, and that the clingy fabric might interfere with his arm movement. The cloak, though, with its thick fabric and extended sleeves, made no hazards. _Right_…

But Itachi didn't say anything. For all he knew, Deidara might have been the only person to notice beside Itachi, and neither were about to raise it as an issue. Partly because Itachi didn't care. And partly because Kisame looked good with a tan. For the shark shinobi's unique complexion, "tanned" meant that his skin became a darker azure blue, one that did wonders to accentuate the planes on the other ninja's arms. Which were in plain view more often than whoever designed the company cloak would have liked.

Itachi's eyelids lowered halfway, keeping the sun from glaring into them as he studied the deep blue above. When his eyes finally closed, he kept the color in his mind. Kisame's skin had darkened to that exact color the year they spent six weeks hiking through the Bird Country, the one and only time that Kisame ever succeeded in persuading his younger partner to spar. Kisame probably thought that it was the only time because, with their agreement that he wouldn't use his sword and that Itachi wouldn't use his eyes, Kisame had actually won. It wasn't true, but Itachi couldn't safely contradict him. He preferred to ignore the toothy grin that he saw on his partner's face whenever the memory came up and carry on without reminiscing too deeply.

In the June heat with nothing but the sound of water and the stray bird overhead, Itachi allowed the memory of Kisame's weight pressing him against hard rock to take over. Along with it the memory of the perspiration that had gathered on the azure temple, and the feeling of their chests pressed together, heaving from physical exertion. And finally the way that he could feel his partner's words whispered against his ear as he leaned in close to his head, arms pinning Itachi's to his sides, _"I think you just lost, Itachi-san."_

Kisame's voice had been teasing, coming from the mouth of someone determined to enjoy himself no matter how large of a stick his teenage partner chose to have up his rear end. But in Itachi's feverish ear, he could imagine the deeper octave that was used when Kisame addressed his off-duty tumbles.

When he felt his body responding to their position, and discovered the warmth that had come to him only a handful of times since that one rain soaked night in the Tea Country coiling in his gut, Itachi had stiffened. Kisame's leg was wedged between Itachi's knees, entrapping one but leaving the other free and capable of maneuvering the shark-like shinobi off balance. But he couldn't move. Kisame was too close. If Itachi shifted any part of his body, he risked brushing against the cocky blue form holding him, and Kisame noticing where his teenage partner's attention was turning. And possibly understanding why.

Now in the present, when Itachi felt his body stirring, he laid still and allowed it to happen. The old resisting voice tried to spring up, but it was brushed away as Itachi's wet hand smoothed slowly over his chest, moving downward.

He hissed when his fingers grazed him. They didn't move experimentally, or even with the curiosity that would be expected from someone who rarely indulged themselves. He made his hold firm, stroking lazily from base to tip with a forged sense of experience. While he concentrated on the scene in his mind, he resisted the urge to gain speed. His hands were smaller than what he wanted, and even the calluses that a life time of holding a kunai had gained were not enough to match the roughness he had felt restraining his wrists in the Bird Country.

Kisame's body was larger than Itachi's, broad enough to cover his entirely. The Uchiha was just fine with that. He felt his legs bending at the knees, just enough so that they rose above the surface of the water, parting of their own accord for a partner that wasn't really there. Kisame's hand could have been sinking into the sand beside the Uchiha's head, supporting his chiseled body above the slender pale one beneath it.

Slowly, Itachi's hips began to move. He could feel the ache gnawing at his resolve to remain still as long as possible. Even the cool water that should have helped keep him steady worked as a lubricant, encouraging him to move faster.

The irony was not lost on the ex-Leaf prodigy. It whispered through the back planes of his distracted mind, that of all people, Uchiha Itachi was reduced to manipulation of an orgasm to the image of the one person he spent the majority of his time with. There were plenty of strangers he could go to, or possibly comrades. Even some enemies. People who didn't notice or didn't care what year he was born. Only that he was powerful and attractive. But the fact was...

Itachi's free had dug its fingers into the sand as his controlled movements finally gave up their rhythm. His hips picked up speed, cleaving into his hand until he could hear the water lapping against the banks around him. He could hear himself breathing again, perspiring despite the fact that he didn't notice the heat anymore.

_Kisame…_

The fact was that Kisame was the only person capable of creating this reaction in him. There was nothing that enemies or comrades could name as an interest of the Uchiha prodigy, nothing that could distract him from his task or crack his profession persona. Except the one person who would have noticed if he slipped. The one person who saw him every day, and had never noticed that he could make Uchiha Itachi stop short with one smile. Sometimes Itachi could catch himself suddenly standing still in the middle of setting up camp, staring at his partner training with the Samehade in that weathered tank top. Watching how the blue arms moved, flexed, controlled...

_Yes…_

Black hair tangling in the sand, Itachi pressed his head back onto the bank as he felt sweat trickle down the side of his forehead. His eyelids tightened even as white flashed behind them. Vulnerably unaware of his surroundings, the Sharingan user didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching then stopping abruptly at the unexpected view of Uchiha Itachi arching against the sand. A groan wrestled its way up the Uchiha's throat and passed parted lips- not a name, thankfully, but enough of a rarity to draw attention all the same.

It was only when the Uchiha prodigy finally laid back and his body began to feel heavy and relaxed that he noticed he wasn't alone.

"...Itachi-san?"

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In the present, miles away from where the Sharingan master was being lifted off the ground and carried into the island village by his blue-skinned partner, another missing nin duo occupied a room in a massive tree house that only a combination of intimidation and luck had kept undiscovered by locals.

The first words out of the younger partner's mouth when he noticed his companion regaining consciousness were, "You shouldn't be moving in your condition."

Rather than responding to the soft-spoken rebuke, the older of them demanded more than asked, "Who were you talking to?"

A pause, weighing possible answers. "A shinobi."

Snort. "He looked like that Leaf brat."

"Hai. They seemed to be from the same village."

"The Leaf?"

"Hai."

"So he's with the Copy Nin..." A pause, then, "Did you get a name?"

Before an answer could be given, or a correction to the assumption that Itachi-san was still servicing his original village, the bedroom door banged open and a roly-poly shaped man interrupted their conversation. For a moment, it seemed that his beady eyes stared at the younger of the two missing nin through the black lenses of his glasses, then he seemed to run into an unpleasant thought and flinched visibly. Haku thought that he saw the grubby little excuse for a man's mouth move to form the word "schoolgirl" among others before regaining composure. Gato's eyes refocused on the man lying stiffly under the bedclothes. Jeering, he tried to touch him, but his wrist was caught and the bones broken before contact could be made.

What followed were a series of threats, grudging assurances, and a thinly veiled challenge of wills. By the time the fat little man and his samurai bodyguards left, the subject of the red-eyed stranger in the woods and the unknown source of the shuriken that had resulted in the gash on Zabuza's right arm was temporarily forgotten. But only by one of the room's remaining occupants.

"Haku, you didn't have to do that."

"It's too early to kill Gato right now. If we're discovered in this country, we'll be in danger again." As they already were.

Wearily, the older of the missing nin conceded, as the strain of the last day rose up to claim his consciousness once again. As the older shinobi's eyes shut, the younger sat thinking, coming to his decision. He would not let Zabuza go into hiding alone. If he had to, he would fight to remain at his side.

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Since Hoshigaki Kisame and Uchiha Itachi met, there had been countless silences between them. But miraculously enough, very few of them had been awkward. When they became partners, a mutual understanding developed between them that Itachi did not talk unless necessary, and that Kisame didn't care whether he was listened to or not. Later, it had been established that Itachi listened anyway. But Kisame, coming from a clan that regarded its members icily at best, was able to read when it was best for him to be silent and when Itachi really did want something to take the boredom of traveling away but wouldn't do anything himself.

However, when Itachi sat up in the riverbank and noticed his shark-like partner standing behind him, the first tense, stifling silence in their partnership stretched out between them like a solid substance. The only problem was that it was a _clear _substance, allowing the two shinobi to stare dumbly (or as close to dumbly as two seasoned missing nin could get) at one another, neither moving and both wondering fervently why Kisame hadn't saved them this painfully long moment by going back to the clearing and pretending that he _hadn't _caught the Akatsuki's most apathetic ninja playing with himself.

While busily re-summoning his composure from his still fuzzy mind, Itachi stared on blindly, not seeing that his partner was equally uncomfortable, and not seeing the twitch when the shark nin shook himself. Also, he didn't see when his partner's tongue ran over his lower lip, or when dark eyes were jerked hastily back up to stare at the Uchiha's face, and not at the water droplets decorating his chest, and not where the water thankfully distorted whatever view would have been available of the seventeen year old's body.

Instead of noticing discomfort in his partner, Itachi grasped franticly after his usual indifferent calm, which evaded him stubbornly. As soon as he thought that he was ready to say something to dismiss the stiffness that was keeping him and his partner from moving, his mind ran over the events of the past five minutes, him moaning as he thrust into his own hand, Kisame appearing behind him. Then his tongue dried out and rendered itself useless once again. His mind flatly refused to acknowledge this situation as plausible, much less _happening…_

"You ready to go?"

Itachi blinked, fighting the urge to swallow as he looked at Kisame. His confusion must have been visible on his face, because when Kisame held out the Uchiha's cloak he shrugged, sent his partner a look that he read as, _"You're a teenager, what else can you expect?"_

Rising out of the water and taking his cloak from Kisame's outstretched hand, Itachi wordlessly accepted the unspoken proposal that this incident not be spoken of, and tried to smother the leak of disappointment that tried to ruin his relief. As he dried himself off with his towel, he tried not to look directly at Kisame, knowing that at that moment he was entirely a seventeen year old in his partner's eyes. And that meant he fell under all that that age implied: Young, Hormonal, and most of all _Off Limits_.

When Itachi was dressed, they started toward headquarters again. Itachi thought that he felt the lack of words between them become heavy once more. Kisame walked behind him, rather than at his side, and the feeling of the other man's eyes on him became more noticeable with each mile, but the Uchiha didn't glance. He didn't want to do anymore harm to his image now that he already had by imitating a suspicious child.

They turned in their reports at headquarters, were told to be ready to leave on their next mission by the following morning, and after stopping for a birthday greeting from Deidara and Sasori in the hall, said goodbye to each other until tomorrow. Kisame was almost gone from sight as soon as the farewell was out of his mouth. Curious, Itachi waited, counting to twenty-five so that the shark nin wouldn't notice him blatantly stalking him, and then followed.

When Itachi reached the city, Kisame was barely more than a black-blue spot in the distance. That suited Itachi fine for the sake of not being seen, but the distance began to worry him when he noticed just how quickly his partner was moving. Turning corners and taking back alleys that were usually avoided, Kisame seemed to be following a very lengthy and complicated trail that led in the direction exactly opposite of his apartment. Which, considering that the shark nin usually least took a shower before heading out, was strange.

Kisame never slowed his pace though. Even from a distance it was clear that the shark-man was going to a specific location. Where Kisame was going and which of his companions he was planning to see, Itachi couldn't tell. Kisame was leading him into the lower parts of town, where pawn shops and liquor stores were the main source of business and it wasn't unusual to see people sleeping on the side of the street. But Kisame stepped around the bums with a practiced eye that didn't need to glance downward to know where an arm or leg sprawled into his path. He didn't stop until they came to a tavern with neon lights blinking and glowing around the door, and went in without pausing.

Itachi stayed outside, counting again to twenty five and weighing the possibility of being seen inside, before following his partner once more. Kisame had gone to bars in the past, Itachi told himself, usually with one of his friends accompanying him, but that didn't mean that he couldn't go alone. There was no reason for the Uchiha's hands to be shaking inside his cloak. He was just…still of balance from before…

His customary time limit reached, the collected, ever tactful Uchiha prodigy was able to restrain from running across the street by a slender string of control. He pushed open the tavern door as casually as he was able, remarking inwardly that he was lucky that this was in the trashier part of town, else he wouldn't have been able to go inside without a bouncer of some sort stopping to ask for his age.

Inside, the barroom was sparsely populated, likely due to the fact that at the moment it was still around mid afternoon. There were several drunks seated along the bar counter nevertheless, despite a number of empty tables waiting for use after nightfall. Kisame was standing at the edge of the bar, much to Itachi's chagrin, because of a wide mirror that lined the other side, which was probably used to make the barroom appear larger to customers. If there were more people at the bar, Itachi might have been able to get closer to his partner without being noticed, but as it was Kisame would only have to look up to see his reflection watching him.

Itachi went diagonally across the room, waiting until he was certain that Kisame was engrossed in a conversation with the bartender first, and took a seat next to a group of people sitting several stools down from where the two were. He couldn't hear Kisame at first, but rather the louder voice of the woman working the bar.

"...yeah, he's working today, but s_heesh, _can't you wait until closing time? Summer's our busy season, y'know?"

Kisame answered back more quietly, so that his partner had to strain his ears over the din of the drinkers next to him, and still couldn't hear what was said. Instead, he heard the waitress again. "Okay, okay, he's in back."

Kisame muttered something that might have been a thank you, then slipped behind the counter and toward a lone door behind it. Itachi watched his partner walk through, already knowing that he was going to try to follow Kisame through there as well. The barmaid, unfortunately, took that moment to notice that there was a new face in the line of drunkards along counter, and resolutely started toward him.

For a second, Itachi thought that now he was going to be asked for his age, and what he was doing in a downtown bar when he was clearly under the legal requirement. But he was wrong. When the female bartender stopped in front of him, she surprised him by asking instead, "So what it'll be, hun?"

Blinking, Itachi named the first beverage that came to his mind -which probably damaged his chance of pretending to be a normal customer more than the slashed forehead protector and the cloak indexical to the one being worn by someone who was clearly known in the establishment. "Water."

The woman shot him a look, but wasn't content to let that speak her thoughts for her. "You came _here _for _that?"_

Itachi glared silently until she shrugged and got him his drink, muttering to herself. There was no doubt in Itachi's mind that she would have begun ranting about the very wrongness (her word, not his) of a teenager coming alone to a bar without ordering an intoxicating beverage of some kind, if a larger group of twenty-something year olds, sure to order more satisfying refreshments, hadn't come in at that moment.

Itachi waited until he saw her usher the group to one of the empty tables and pull out a notepad to record their orders before gratefully slipping off his stool and toward the door behind the counter. When he was on the other side and realized that it did not lead into a kitchen or store room, but into a long, dim hallway, Itachi hesitated a moment and then admitted that performing an illusion jutsu was in his best interests if he didn't want to be noticed by passersby.

The length of the hallway itself surprised him. It stretched out longer than the tavern's space; there was a chance that it was even long enough to lead along the whole street. But all thoughts regarding why a downtown bar would have a ridiculously long and unneeded hallway were instantly put aside when the Uchiha prodigy neared a corner and heard his partner's voice on the other side.

What Kisame said was as softly spoken as when he was in the barroom, so that by the time Itachi was close enough to identify the voice, the shark shinobi had already finished speaking. Then another voice, as flamboyant as that of the bartender, answered, "I haven't seen you this worked up since you came out. Who were you with?"

"No one," Kisame's voice was understandable this time. "I just got back to town twenty minutes ago."

"Liar," the other voice said again. "You wouldn't be here right now for _nothing_. Who?"

Kisame didn't seem to be in the mood to dodge questions in the echoing hallway. "Can I tell you later?"

Itachi heard a chuckle. "That bad? Now it's inevitable! Is he-"

"It's not what you think," Kisame cut off the question. The other man must have stared at him strangely, because after a moment he added, "I mean it, not here."

A dramatic sigh. "Alright you win. But don't think I'll forget. I want a name."

Kisame's voice sounded humoring, as if playing along with a child. "Alright, I'll tell you later."

The tone wasn't lost on the other man. "I'm warning you, I'm going to find out."

"Of course you will."

There was another dramatic sigh from around the corner, and then Itachi heard the sound of footsteps coming around. Jutsu still in place, he tried to concentrate on keeping the sound of his breathing as inaudible as possible as his partner was led into the hallway by his companion. The man was a perfect specimen of Kisame's many casual acquaintances. Long haired, large eyed, and light skinned. He wore his hair in a thick braid down his back, and was dressed in a colorful shirt that the cut of which suggested it might have been made for the female body rather than the male one that owned it.

The two seemed to stop directly in front of where Itachi was standing, as if sensing his presence. "I'll meet you out front as soon as I find my co-manager and let him know," the man said, with a sassy smile on his face that Itachi thought looked ever-so-slightly sinister. Other people might have called it suggestive. Kisame answered that he would be waiting there, and then the man reached up and pulled the shark nin's face down to his level and brought their lips together in a deep, provocative kiss.

Itachi forced himself to stay completely still, even as his eyes refused to move or even blink during the display. He'd seen it before, he told himself...though before, maybe it hadn't been quite so close up.

Kisame's hands came up behind the man's head almost instantly, one molding itself to the back of the man's neck. The other hand went for the stranger's braid, looping the plait around his fist and tugging it back for better access. Itachi's attention diverted between watching his partner's hungry assault on the other man's mouth and the eager way the dark haired man received him, opening his mouth wider, pressing himself closer to the shinobi holding him. When the two finally broke apart, the man was smiling, braid disheveled, as he turned and strutted back around the corner, presumably to find his co-manager, and Kisame turned back down the hall. As his partner walked away, Itachi noticed that the tension had had seen in his partner's shoulder's since leaving the base was now all but gone.

Itachi himself stood staring at the spot where his partner and the stranger had been. Now alone in the hallway, he began his counting to twenty five once more, though still lacking in the ability to look away from the now empty space. He felt an inkling in the back of his mind, a small menacing urge to run after Kisame and show him exactly how painful a seventeen year old fist could feel coming at the back of his head. Itachi clamped down on the thought. He told himself, for the second time that day, that Kisame had done this dozens of times before. If anything, _he _was the one acting strangely, not Kisame.

The desired effect that he was hoping the thought would bring didn't come.Nevertheless, the Uchiha prodigy forced himself to go back down the hall. Naturally, he couldn't find Kisame in the growing crowd when he got back into the barroom. He knew that if he went outside, he would probably see the blue-skinned shinobi waiting for the dark haired man currently sniffing around in the back hallway. Rather than going out to watch Kisame on the street, Itachi let his jutsu fade and went back to his seat at the bar. His glass of water was still sitting there, untouched.

After a moment, the back door opened and the flashy blouse-wearing worker came striding out. Itachi looked up discreetly when he heard the bartender call after the stranger, and saw the two exchange grins.

"Going out tonight?" the obnoxiously loud woman asked. Her expression indicated that she already knew the answer, and that she was used to chatting on the subject.

The dark haired man grinned back over his shoulder as he continued walking towards the front door. "I'll be back before seven, don't worry."

Two other waitresses called out to their employer on his way out. Someone referred to him as "boss" and Itachi took that to mean that Kisame's friend was the other co-manager. Well, that explained why he was able to just up and leave on a whim. Whether the man's employees knew where he was going or with whom was hard to tell. Itachi imagined that they did. _He_ thought that the swagger to the stranger's hips made everything clear to observers.

Itachi stayed where he was at the bar, even after hearing the sound of the door closing behind Kisame's playmate. He thought of following them, wondered whether the apartment they were going to would have curtains, and if either of them would be aware enough to close them. Then, for the first time since ordering it, the Sharingan user reached out and picked up his glass of water, tipping it back against his mouth and swallowing the contents in three long gulps.

The bartender came back towards him when he slammed the glass back on the counter top. She probably hadn't noticed that he had left his seat to begin with. Reaching for his glass, she began to ask if Itachi wanted a refill, but then fell silent. Itachi looked at up and found her staring back at him with one penciled eyebrow raised.

"You alright, hun?"

"Hn."

Itachi tried staring point blank at the woman to make her go away, but she seemed to either be too ignorant to pick up on the message that he wanted to be alone, or immune to it. Instead, she nodded to herself as if she had suddenly reached a conclusion, and said to him, "I've seen that look before."

While the woman's dark haired patron's stare threatened to turn into a glare to make his desire for her to turn around and walk away more clear, she reached down under the counter and pulled up a label-less bottle of amber liquid and a shot glass. She poured, ignoring the silent order to leave, then pushed the tiny glass across to the Uchiha. "Whatever's wrong," she said, "that's what'll make it better."

Itachi looked at the glass, then at the bartender. He wondered how much time she would spend on him for the sake of increasing her tip size, before another patron down the bar signaled for her attention. Before she turned to go, she cast a pointed look toward the glass, and stated in an authoritative tone, "I mean it, hun. Best cure for disappointment on this side of the mountains."

For a long time, Itachi sat staring at the shot glass. He had the feeling that he had been in the tavern long enough, and that if he left now things would infinitely better than if he stayed on the off chance that Kisame would come back. But still, looking at the glass...

Cautiously, as if it would burst in his hands, Itachi picked up the small vessel. The light winked at him encouragingly through the amber fluid as it was lifted off the counter. Then, tipping the rim of the glass slowly against is mouth, he took a small sip.

...And promptly began to choke while his tongue burned, and heard loud slam of the glass hitting the polished bar top as he impulsively slammed it down. The container was still only half empty. The man sitting on the stool next to him looked over at the sound of the seventeen year old's coughs, and flatly stated, "It's better if you drink it all at once."

The Uchiha prodigy blinked.

The man turned away and went back to the newspaper he had been reading, not caring whether his advice was taken or ignored. Itachi waited a minute, thought once more about leaving the bar, and then finally tried drinking the scorching liquid again. Stubbornly he held his mouth closed while the whisky burned at his throat, tempting him to start wheezing again. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the man nod his head once, approvingly.

Twenty seconds ticked by, while the urge to open his mouth and greedily gulp air to soothe the discomfort became less powerful. Itachi fleetingly wondered if the bartender would notice if he poured himself another glass. The thought didn't last long before being dismissed when Itachi's pale hand snaked out and grasped the bottle of its own accord. He could afford to pay for whatever he drank, anyway.

The second glass went down his throat with less protest than the first, and left a warmth in his stomach that was at once comforting. Almost enough to make Itachi understand why some shinobi could swallow the stuff mercilessly until they reached the point where standing still seems like an impossible feat and lampposts look like perfectly understanding conversation partners.

Sometime after his fourth glass, when the liquid's effect on the infamous prodigy's throat seemed to have gone away in defeat, the old man sitting next to him at the bar felt up to offering his advice again.

"So what's her name?"

Itachi promptly began choking again.

The man was still staring down at the newspaper he was reading, unable to see the former Leaf shinobi's reaction. But he heard it, and explained himself thus, "Nobody mopes in a bar over nothing."

Every well-trained shinobi, and a good number of not so well-trained ones, naturally knew that bars were one of the best places to go to pick up leads on people or items that needed to be tracked down. There was just something about bars that made people want to talk. Itachi and Kisame had exploited this method many times before. However, Itachi couldn't help wondering if there wasn't anyway of making these people realize that he _didn't_ want to talk. He let silence be his answer to the man, and wasn't questioned further.

As a distraction, he went back to the golden-yellow liquid in the bottle that had still not been taken away by the bartender. He wasn't sure how much time passed before the old man got up to leave, or before more people began coming into the tavern. No one else tried to talk to him, though when the redheaded barmaid passed him by, she seemed to huff and pretend that she didn't see him sitting there. That suited Itachi just fine.

From where he was sitting, the one clock that the tavern had was out of view. But regardless, he knew when it was seven o'clock all the same when the front door swung open and a dark haired, woman's-shirt-wearing man was reflected in the mirror as he came in. The bright colors of his clothes made him hard to miss among the dark hues worn by most of the evening customers. Staring in the mirror, Itachi followed the figure, noting the way his clothing clung to him. It was a button down shirt, small but not clingy. Easily removed and slipped back on without hassle.

Dislike sprung up instantly in the forefront of the Sharingan user's mind, refusing to be ignored. Sharingan eyes watched the approach of the man that had likely spent the last two hours rolling around on a bed somewhere with his partner. When the man came to the back door that led into the wide hallway, he seemed to feel the weight of the glare being directed toward his back. He stopped and turned around, one hand still holding the doorway open.

In a moment, the dark haired man waved over the bartender and began to speak to her. Itachi was able to see their lips moving, but with the increase of talking, drinking patrons, overhearing was impossible even with their loud voices. At first the red haired woman was frowning, indicating that she had just been asked a question and was uncertain what to answer, but her boss pressed on until at last she nodded, said something that took five seconds or more to voice, and then pointed directly down the counter. Directly to where Itachi was sitting. Following her finger, Kisame's dark haired playmate looked up, eyes finding Itachi's and locking. Itachi saw an eyebrow rise.

With a nod of dismissal to the woman, he sent her back to mixing drinks for other customers. He turned away from the door and began walking purposely down the bar. The man's mouth, which had been ravaged in the dim hallway just hours ago, quirked into a coy little smile as he stopped in front of where the oldest living Uchiha was seated, hand still gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle as if it was capable of being strangled.

"Aren't you a little young to be in here?"

"Hn." On closer inspection, Itachi could see that the man's hair was damp. He thought he could smell the scent his shampoo spreading out in the air while his eyes traced the wet strands of hair hanging out around the stranger's forehead. Itachi imagined the stranger across from him in the shower with Kisame, legs surrounding the shark nin's waist as Kisame held him in place against a tiled wall, nails digging into muscular blue shoulders under the spray...

"What's your name?" The co-owner's voice was casual, friendly in the manner of a gossiper fishing for secrets from a new and trusting neighbor.

Itachi blinked, bringing himself out of the vision of his partner and the colorfully-dressed person before him wrapped around one another in a shower stall. Without thinking his hand shot out to pour himself another glass of whiskey to douse it.

"You know," the man said as he watched the Uchiha pour, "it's not flattering to sulk like that."

"I'm not sulking," Itachi snapped instantly, and noted to himself that he sounded like a defensive child. Wonderful. He raised his glass and downed the liquid contents in a gulp, half-glad when it went down unhindered.

Kisame's whore wasn't dissuaded from talking to him in the least. Rather, he waited for the Uchiha to pour himself one more glass, and then reached across the bar to matter-of-factly screw the cap back onto the bottle. "I think you've had enough." Then, looking at the quarter of liquid left in the bottle, asked more sharply, "How full was this when Barbara gave it to you?"

"Hn." Unable to find a way to convey hate while shrugging, Itachi settled on merely doing the latter.

The other man sighed, holding the whiskey bottle hostage on his side of the counter, but not returning it to its place under the bar. He seemed to study the Uchiha's face carefully before saying quietly, "You don't talk much, do you?"

The tone used by the man that Itachi still stubbornly refused to admit had the upper hand of the conversation, implied some sort of prior knowledge. Or, at least that's what it sounded like to the Uchiha, who honestly _couldn't _remember just how full that bottle had been at four or five thirty that afternoon.

The coy smile came back onto the other man's face as he leaned farther across the bar, and whispered, "You don't have to tell me your name, but I was just told you've been sitting here since I stepped out, and I'm pretty sure you're not waiting for me."

The man stayed where he was leaning close to the seventeen year old who had once murdered one of the Leaf's most esteemed clans. He didn't so much as blink when Itachi stared right back at him, face impassive. The other man's mouth was still forming the flirtatious smile for anyone who might have been looking their way, but his eyes were watchful and focused entirely on Itachi's face as if to read the slightest twitch.

"And just so you know," the man added, with a suggestive wink, "I _do _have a good guess who you are."

Even through the alcoholic fog that was swirling around in Itachi's mind, the instinctive reaction to the other's man's statement took control. Itachi was aware that he was still wearing his Akatsuki cloak, as well as his forehead protector, and that the sentence could be depicted in any number of meanings depending on Kisame's confidence in his off duty bar-slut. Though Itachi had learned that very few of the men that Kisame kept in contact with knew about his profession, he had the feeling that a number of them had figured it out by the uniform and frequent traveling. But risking his safety was not something that the exiled Mist shinobi did lightly, and something that his younger partner didn't do at all.

Staring coldly at the dark-haired man leaning across the counter toward him, Itachi said flatly, "What do you want?"

The coy smile perked up in one corner, as if it wanted to grow larger but wasn't allowed to just yet. "So you are Kisame's partner."

"Hn." Itachi watched the man carefully as he reached across the table and grasped the neck of the whiskey bottle again. There was no protest as Itachi poured himself another glass of the depleted liquid, only the slow, wicked grin that the co-manager had given to Kisame in the dim hallway hours before. More to himself than to Itachi, the man slowly murmured, "Perfect."

kkkkkkkkk

Weakness, Itachi's father once told him, is impermissible. It's something that no ninja, much less a member of their family, can afford to have. As he grew older, he learned that it was not just his own family that believed that. Every shinobi past the status of Genin, and even some that weren't, were trying desperately to create the same image. Over, and over again. And Itachi was no exception. In fact, he excelled at it. But then almost the moment he stepped out from under his family's control, he developed one. A strong one.

He was only human.

Itachi woke up with the alarm clock sounding angrily near his ear, as if it knew what memory had been going through his head while he slept, and precisely how it ended. Making an attempt to roll onto his side and turn the clock off, Itachi felt a sharp stab of pain in his shoulder. When he settled back so that he was facing the ceiling, he turned his head to look around the room. It was unfamiliar, made even less recognizable by blackout curtains shrouding the one window. He could see the shape of standard pieces of furniture, such as a dresser and an empty chair, and then the unmistakable shape of a large sword leaning again the wall near a second bed to Itachi's left. On that bed, Itachi saw a dark shape moving ever so slightly with the rhythm of inhales and exhales.

Kisame.

The clock, sitting on a bedside table between the room's two beds flashed the numbers 5:30 at him. Kisame must have set the alarm before going to bed the night before. The sound gave the morning an odd sense of regularity that contradicted the coat of bandages wrapped tightly around his chest.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Itachi started to sit up only to be confronted with another problem as the motion caused his clothes to shift. He was fully dressed from the waist down, but under that, he was s_ticky, _in a place where "sticky" could only mean one thing.

Unnecessarily, Itachi slid one hand beneath the sheets, finding the stain on his clothing that was still a bit damp from ejaculation. Unsure what had caused it until his subconscious helpfully brought to mind select details of _that _memory, Itachi stilled and cast an unnecessary glance toward his sleeping partner as if expecting him to wake with his familiar, teasing grin on his face. By the river, when no one else was around...If anything had gone in his favor the day before, please let Kisame have gone to bed and been dead to the world by the time that Itachi's dream had come to _that _part.

When Kisame's sleeping state was confirmed, Itachi moved to get out of bed and into the shower as soon as possible. Standing brought a rush of grogginess to the Uchiha prodigy's head, as well as a prickle of pain from his shoulder. But for the most part, he seemed fully capable of remaining upright. If he endured a little discomfort, Itachi found his arm to be functional despite the exaggerated amount of wrappings around his chest and shoulder. Which, considering that his last waking memory consisted of being attacked by an effeminate, painfully easy to underestimate shinobi and what his memory could only describe as a humanoid ape, was a good thing.

Inside the bathroom, Itachi stood in front of the mirror and began to unwrap the before mentioned bandages slowly. It wasn't that Itachi thought that his partner had gone into a panic when he was dressing the wound, Itachi told himself when the layers began to give way first to dried brown, then fresh crimson stains. He just wanted to know what the worst of the damage was. And anyway, he couldn't take a shower with all that on, could he? (And the possibility of not taking a shower was instantly ruled out; not only did he need to wash off the remaining evidence of the night before, but also his hair hadn't been washed in _two days!)_

Itachi was just coming down to the original layers of the bandaging when he heard a knock on the motel room door. While he was hastily wrapping the bandages back around so that damp red portions were not quite so wide, Itachi heard the person at the door loudly knock twice more before he got out of the bathroom. By that time, Kisame, woken by the knocking's persistence where the alarm had gone ignored, was already at the door.

He watched the shark nin's sleepy nods for a few seconds, long enough to decipher that whoever was at their door was with the motel staff, or at least not coming into their room, then turned back into the bathroom to continue with his undressing. While doing so, he took a step that reminded him about the mess under his clothes that was still in desperate need of cleaning, and renewed his decision that regardless of what was under the last layers of bandage, he was going to take a shower. He was even in the act of turning on the water when he heard Kisame knocking on the bathroom door. There was a short pause, during which Itachi did not make any move to answer, before Kisame came in on his own. Kisame, Itachi had learned during their first year as partners, rarely waited for permission before entering. The easy, less than private changing areas of bathhouses, the Uchiha suspected, were probably what robbed the shark nin of whatever modesty that he might have been raised with in the Mist.

"Itachi-san," Kisame said, voice in a slightly husky tone that Itachi only heard through walls and open windows. Or when the shark nin had just woken up in the morning. "You didn't give the motel people your real name, did you?"

Itachi frowned. "When would I have done that?"

Only an imbecile would use his real name.

Itachi glanced down at his partner's hand, where he could see an envelope being held between long blue fingers.

"You're not going to believe this." Kisame held out the envelope that the busboy must have just delivered to their room. "Take a look."

Before even taking the white bit of folded paper from his partner's hand, Itachi was able to see the neatly written letters on the front, _"To: Itachi-san"_ Then underneath, there was what he assumed to be the name of the motel and the number of the room that they were currently in, and then "5:55 AM." There was a line drawn under the time that the writer apparently wanted his message delivered, as if to say _"Don't forget!"_

Itachi glanced at the clock on the wall. The message was exactly ten minutes early.

Ripping opened the paper, black eyes locked with blood red as the owner of the latter withdrew a small rectangle of paper and tentatively held it up to the light as he read the four words written in the same perfect handwriting as the address.

_"I won't leave him."_

To himself, Itachi noted how amazingly unsurprised he was that Haku's handwriting was as worthy of the fairer sex as his face.

"...Itachi-san?" Kisame's voice sounded more awake than it had a minute ago.

Itachi looked up from the letter, if such a short message could qualify as a letter, to look at his partner. Kisame's eyes were staring at the back of the note, as if an incredibly large insect had just crawled, unnoticed, across Itachi's knuckles.

"Put that down."

"What?" Frowning, Itachi stared at his partner for more of an explanation, then seeing that the shark nin's eyes were resolutely fixed to the back of his hand, turned the paper over. ...And promptly stopped breathing when he saw Haku's message was written on the back of an explosive mark, the kind that shinobi usually attach to trees or animals for traps.

That effeminate bastard...

Obeying Kisame's advice, Itachi promptly let his fingers open to drop the note.

To himself, he began listing the less desirable facts of their situation. One, Haku knew where he was. Two, he knew where _Kisame _was, and if their conversation in the forest meant anything, Haku had a pretty good idea about that one weakness that Itachi wasn't supposed to have. Three, he was still holding the explosive note.

Itachi looked up at Kisame, who was still waiting for him to drop the lethal piece of paper, and said dumbly, "It's stuck."

_"'Stuck'?" _Kisame echoed him, blinking.

Instead of speaking, Itachi waved his hand from side to side, displaying how it stayed resolutely attached to his lax fingers.

Kisame hissed out the one word that summed up both their thoughts on an exhaled breath, "Shit..."

Voice a little difficult to hear over the water, Itachi heard himself asking, "How long do you think before...?"

"It can't be long."

Silence dominated the bathroom for a moment, during which the two S-class missing nin stared mutely at each other, then at the note that was set to explode any time after the next ten minutes. Then as if somewhere a start button had just been pressed, they moved towards each other, the endangered hand being taken at the wrist by a larger blue one and examined by two pairs of eyes.

There was a heavy sheen on the back of the note that had caught Kisame's attention when Itachi held it, even before he read the markings. Usually when explosive marks are used, the glue is applied more lightly so that it won't be noticed by shinobi. Haku apparently used something else when he sent it, something that could care less about other pieces of paper but stubbornly refused to leave Itachi's fingertips.

Five minutes later, Kisame glanced up at the clock. "Do you think we can cut it?"

"It would probably stick to the kunai."

"Better a kunai than you," Kisame huffed.

Itachi ignored the comment. He asked again, "How long do we have?"

Kisame shrugged, which seemed like a far too relaxed gesture given the fact that he was standing in a room with a partner that in the best case scenario, might be splattered on the pristine white bathroom tiles in the near future. "Depends, how much time do you think this kid would give you to read the note?"

"...I think there is a sewing kit in the desk drawer."

Actually, Itachi only thought that there might be, but Kisame didn't miss a beat. The shark nin was in the other room in an instant, presumably to see if Itachi's guess had been right.

Alone in the bathroom, Itachi stared down at his hand again, moving the fingers one at a time experimentally. Neither he nor Kisame used exploding notes very often during their work, though they had encountered them often enough stuck on the ends of kunai or the backs of trees. Itachi wondered if there was a way to prevent the explosion after the note had been set. He had probably heard the answer to his question at some point, when he was an ANBU captain or after, but for now...

Itachi glanced up at the clock, noting that it was now three minutes to the time that Haku had planned on Itachi reading the note. Itachi flexed his fingers again. Only three of them were actually caught, he thought to himself, and even then it was only the tips of his fingers. Haku had probably been relying on Itachi holding the note against his palm for a better hold, but as it had happened, he had left the majority of the glue-coated paper untouched...

On an impulse, the Uchiha prodigy turned and walked back over to the sink. He spent three seconds studying the smooth tile surrounding it before finally lifting up the edge of the note dangling from his hand and stretching it over the porcelain edge. With his free hand, he pressed down on the back of the note to ensure it would stick firmly. When he was done, Itachi braced his arm (thankfully it wasn't the one with the injured shoulder), and tried to used the leverage to jerk his fingers free.

At 5:53, Itachi, now beginning to feel pain more strongly in both his shoulders, could only glare angrily down at his trapped hand, not sure whether to be astounded or enraged by the efficiency of Haku's taste in glue.

When Kisame walked back into the room and saw his partner stationed next to the sink, he paused to stare first at the Uchiha prodigy, then the explosive mark. The look on his face seemed to convey the words, _'Are you **really **supposed to be the genius in this partnership?'_

Itachi returned the look with a glare of his own, saying '_Voice that thought, and I'll kill you before this thing even goes off.'_

Kisame's lips twitched in response, and Itachi had a feeling that if they weren't in danger of being engulfed in a sudden burst of flames at any moment, the shark ninja would have been laughing.

The shark nin crossed the room in two long steps. At first, Itachi wasn't able to see what his partner was holding in his hands, until he knelt in front of where he had stupidly attached himself to the sink counter. Taking his younger partner's wrist in his hand, Kisame gently stretched the explosive note as far back as it could go. Producing a pair of scissors, the petite kind usually found in complimentary hotel sewing kits, Kisame began cutting the note around Itachi's fingers. The scissors looked pathetically small and awkward in the former Mist nin's large hands, but were admittedly better off than if Itachi were maneuvering them himself with one hand trapped and the other sore from trying to pull it free.

Neither of them spoke after Kisame set to work. During which, Itachi's body stiffened, uncomfortably aware of the sound of the shower water in the background, and the reason before that had made him so keen to get out of bed in the first place. Kisame's head was about level with Itachi's midsection in their current position. Thankfully, the other shinobi seemed too preoccupied to turn his head and notice anything, scent for instance, or simply chose not to comment at the moment. Kisame wasn't looking at Itachi at all, in fact. He was concentrating on guiding the sewing scissors around each of his partner's fingers in turn, while keeping the puny blades from getting stuck against the sticky surface of the paper. Save for the slow shifting of one arm, Kisame's shoulders barely moved. The entire upper half of Kisame's body was uncovered for Itachi's gawking, the tank top that regularly invited him to stare having been removed sometime the night before. The rare close look at a large portion of his partner's body brought to the stoic nin's attention that, as memories and unconscious dreams had lead him to believe, what was hidden under the black tank top was just as well formed as what was exposed by it. Staring with the warmth radiating from his partner's body into his leg, the urge to reach forward and rest his hand on plane of the shark-nin's shoulders rose insistently in the forefront of the Uchiha's mind, despite their situation. Just to feel for himself whether the skin there was as rough as his imagination had supplied…

The sound of the tiny scissors hitting the floor broke through the Uchiha's thoughts. His hand was flexing in the air five inches or so above Kisame's back, as if it had already decided that conscious discussion didn't need to be reached in order for it to act. He jerked it back to his side just as the shark nin turned around. Standing up, Kisame released his hold on the smaller ninja's wrist and missed the smoldering look of disappointment and frustration that flashed briefly cross his partner's face when the shark nin was flattening the frayed edges of the note on the bathroom sink.

Almost simultaneously, the two looked toward the clock, just as the minute hand shifted the readings to 5:55. Without a word both Akatsuki members turned towards the door, one walking more behind the other for the sake of not being caught should his eyes stray to trace the muscles of the other's back once more.

They went directly from the bedroom into the hall, and then from there to the stairs. There was no way to be sure how big the intended explosion was meant to be, or whether their target had considered endangering other occupants of the motel in order to destroy the threat to his safety. Itachi's legs had to expend twice their usual effort in walking in order to keep up with the shark nin's longer strides. Neither of them glanced toward the other doors in the hallway as they passed by. They were halfway down the stairwell before either of them said anything to the other. And even then, due to a sudden realization.

"Samehade."

Itachi, who needed to bring himself back from nearly stepping down onto the step below him when his partner abruptly stopped moving, blinked at his partner from behind. Then after a moment it dawned on him that being able to avidly study the view of Kisame's back was not just allowed by his partner's shirtless state, but also by the absence of a very large, very _valued_ sword.

Kisame was already turned and moving to step around his petite partner, clearly intending to march right back into their soon-to-be-smoldering-hole of a motel room.

"There's no time," Itachi said, taking a side step to block his partner from coming up. He and Kisame were standing nose to chin with the help of the different levels of their perspective steps, and then after an unexpected hand on Itachi's hip pushed him patiently to one side, almost shoulder to shoulder in the narrow space. Itachi felt the urge to shove his partner the remaining steps when the hand left his hip, its owner still in motion. Instead his fingers closed around the shark nin's forearm like a vise, forcing him to stop.

Kisame's pause only lasted as long as it took for him to shoot his partner a questioning glance, and then easily pry his arm free. Without commenting on his partner's stubbornness, Kisame took the next step upward. "I'll be right back."

Itachi made an effort to keep his voice neutral. Or at the very least, harsh rather than incredulous. Incredulous never suited Itachi. "You can't be serious."

As if his mind was already set on conserving time, the blue-skinned shinobi didn't pause when he reached the top of the stairs. Over his shoulder he called back to his unmoved partner, "Go on ahead, I'll meet you outside in a minute."

Itachi was tempted to shout after him, "The room's going to be _gone_ in a minute!" But Kisame had already turned the corner into the hallway. Itachi stared at the spot for a moment, as if expecting his partner to suddenly come to his senses and walk back out, because powerful and rare as it might be, it was a bloody _sword_ he was going back for!

When the shark-like shinobi's immediate return didn't happen, Itachi turned and forced himself to follow Kisame's practical advice. Akatsuki agents were dispatched in pairs not because they needed support to carry out missions, but so that missions would be completed even if one agent decided to risk being reduced to a smoldering carcass for the sake of rescuing an oversized letter opener.

Itachi's foot lingered on the third step. In the back of his mind that voice he should have been listening to over the last two days whispered, _Weakness._

Injured shoulder to the wall and paper-tipped fingers gliding along the railing, Itachi forced his foot to move to the step below him. Then the one after that.

_Weakness._

At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and stood completely still with one hand clutching the railing. The early hour left the ground floor almost too dark to see the nearest wall, which suited Itachi just fine as he concentrated, listening and feeling for the disturbance that he knew was bound to happen at any second. There were no bright numbers to help him keep a steady hold on time, but if he counted his heartbeats he could keep up with the seconds going by.

Why didn't the staff have a clock in the lobby? The staircase led right into it. Itachi could see the outline of a desk in the darkness.

_Weakness..._

Deliberately, Itachi began scanning the room for the door. It would probably be locked to keep beggars and thieves from getting in, which was no small possibility from what Itachi and Kisame had seen coming into the village the other morning. The explosion would probably be blamed on them, since Gato had likely already bought or reduced the island's law enforcers into submission. And anyway, if the fire was large enough, street urchins would probably risk breaking in to steal furniture. One of them might even make it up the stairs and find a hitai-ate blown out into the hallway by the blast. Whether or not a body would be found with it...

What time was it?

_Weakness._

Kisame should have been back by now, Itachi thought to himself. It didn't take this long for them to go down the hallway the first time. Even with the sword on his back, Kisame was still fast enough to have made the trip down the hall twice by now. Where was he?

Itachi glanced once, futilely toward the door across the room from him. It was shrouded in blackout curtains to either keep the sun out or street goers from looking in before opening hours, but he could see a faint whitish light peeking through the edges. The sun must have just been beginning to rise outside. If he went out now, there was a chance that he could get out of the village with only a few bums seeing him, and then even a chance that they would take the bedraggled, bandaged stranger as one of their own and pay him no attention as he slipped back into the forest to continue the hunt for the false hunter nin of the Mist.

Or, he could…

Itachi glanced up the stairs. He heard his heart beat twice in his ears, hard and entirely too noticeable for his taste. He surmised that he stood at the bottom for barely five seconds before his feet found the first step...

Running up the stairs, Itachi thought he made better time than when his partner went back for his precious sword. But then, Kisame hadn't been taking them two at a time. He couldn't help the thought of how strange he would look if any one of his comrades from the Akatsuki, or even from the Leaf, were there to see him, but it was suppressed as he determinedly continued his race upward.

He was several steps from the top when he felt the blast that he had been waiting for at the foot of the stairs. It vibrated through the wooden planking of the floorboards, making the glass shake audibly in the windows below. Itachi faltered more than stopped when it came. His foot paused in mid air for just a moment before it hit the floor again. His body continued climbing the stairs. One knee twitched and threatened to buckle under him. It went ignored. Stiffly at first, Itachi's body broke back into its former speed. His body was on auto pilot.

_Weakness..._

Itachi didn't slow at the top of the stairs. Instead he turned, rounding the corner so sharply that he wasn't able to prevent himself from colliding into the large, blue form coming opposite. Kisame being the sturdier of the two, the Uchiha's slender body bounced back, fully intent on crashing into the ground in the second most ungraceful movement of his life. Or what would have been, had Kisame been slower at regaining his wits, if they had even been scattered by the collision to being with. One blue hand snaking out and taking hold of his smaller partner, Kisame gave a minimal effort tug that none the less had the effect of reversing the Uchiha's direction. The shark ninja's other hand had to come up to stop Itachi from crashing into him again, one hand grasping either of Itachi's elbows to hold him in place.

Kisame could probably feel Itachi's breath exhaling toward his stomach. Itachi's own hands had come up on instinct to keep him from falling into his partner's arms, and now laid flat on shark man's stomach, keeping the distance between their bodies solid. But then, out of lingering weariness that somehow was not completely resolved by being knocked out cold the day before, Itachi's head leaned forward to bridge the gap, white uncovered forehead falling against a soot smothered blue chest.

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In the pale light of early morning, Kisame and Itachi walked down the alleyway behind their motel. Neither of them spoke as they weeded their way down the still shaded pathways. There were few people to avoid, as Itachi's prediction about the fire drawing the attention of every able bodied beggar for miles proved to be true. On the other side of the buildings they passed, they could hear the steady chanting of villagers as they ran by. _"Fire! Fire!"_

In one way, Haku's bomb-letter had worked in their favor. If what Kisame told Itachi about there being another group of shinobi on the island - led by the Copy Nin, no less - was right, then they couldn't afford to be spotted by anyone in this small village. Especially when they were bound to stick out as much as they did: one of them a blue specimen that can only be described as the result if man ever successfully bred with a shark, boasting an enormous sword on his back, and worse, ash smeared over the left side of his body; and the other a red-eyed, outlandishly un-tanned teenager with a blood stained bandage across his upper torso.

The spontaneous almost-embrace in the stairwell went uncommented on after Kisame had been reassured that his comrade was not about to collapse. At some point before or after Kisame had gone back for his sword, Itachi's puncture wound had started bleeding again. The Uchiha thought regretfully of the wasted layers he had removed from Kisame's makeshift bandage, left behind on the bathroom floor. By now those, along with much of what they left behind in the room, would have burned.

Though, Itachi thought while he half consciously watched his partner's back flex as the shark nin pulled his worn tank top down over his shoulders, their supplies were not completely depleted. Kisame carried his Samehade unconventionally over one arm as he dressed without breaking pace. Held loosely against his side with one arm, Itachi cradled a bundle made up of his own effects that Kisame had pressed into his hands after the incident in the motel hallway. When he first saw the bundle wrapped up in his cloak, Itachi hadn't known whether to glare at the shark nin for putting himself in danger for that much longer, or thank him. Eventually he lost the chance when a glance down the hall told them that the fire was spreading rapidly through the old wooden building. Now, as Kisame maneuvered into his cloak beside him, Itachi began untangling the red and black ball that was made up of his.

His two shirts were inside, rumpled but not blood stained. Kisame must have gone into his pack and fished out a spare set. There was also his weapons holster, which must have been unstrapped from his thigh the night before. Then his hitai-ate, an obvious choice if they were trying to conceal their presence. Kisame was fitting his own bulky head piece on as Itachi shifted one of his shirts aside to see the last item inside.

Itachi missed a step. Staring down into the bundle in his hands, he held up a plastic bottle, eyes growing half an inch wider as he read the label. Kisame looked back over his shoulder, noticing that his younger partner had just discovered the motel shampoo sample, peaches n' cream scented. Mindful of the mood of their morning so far, the shark nin wisely decided not to say anything, but the cocky, familiar air to his smile was clear enough. Itachi could almost hear the sentence, "_It's scary, but I just know you **that **well."_

Itachi only allowed the moment to last so long. The bottle of shampoo held tightly in his hand, Itachi slipped it into one of the cloaks many pockets and, following Kisame's example, began dressing as he caught up with the former Mist shinobi. He refastened his holster in its proper place, tied on his forehead protector, pulled both shirts over his head, and slipped his cloak on over his pale shoulders. He adjusted his hair as best he could using only his fingers, and then, feeling more contented for the first time since coming to the Wave Country, Itachi redoubled his pace to keep up with his shark-like partner.

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A/N:

Hello everyone. Remember me? Sorry that once again there has been a sizable gap between updates...I try to keep a steady stream of chapters going for a story over the summer, but as you can see, it's harder for me to keep a strong hold on everything after I go back to school (infact, I think that you can see how my writing style improves and drops at the beginning and end of summer in Family Matters). But anyway, just to let you know, I have no plans of giving up on this story. So if you like it, don't worry! And if you don't...well, I have to wonder why you've read to the third chapter, but that's none of my business.

Now for review responses!

**Sacral: **lol, I guess Kisame's flashbacks got a little out of control, huh? I'm sorry to say that there are still two flashbacks in Kisame's future, but don't worry, I won't make them as lengthy. Heck, there's only three flash backs planned for the rest of the story, and one of them's already half written in this chapter. As for Kisame and Itachi meeting up in the future, I can't tell you when for the sake of keeping the story a tiny bit surprising, but it will happen soon. Probably not in the next chapter, but soon. I promise.

**Suiren ningyo no koori**: Hmm, your suggestion about bringing in Itachi's cousin is interesting, but I'm not sure how I would put it in. Most of Itachi's flashbacks are supposed to take place after he's met Kisame, but I'll see what I can do. I personally love reading about Shisui too. Have you ever read Kisame Koi? (And if I let my ego take over my hands for awhile: THANK YOU FOR CALLING ME CREATIVE! Nothing makes me happier than knowing that someone thinks that I'm being daring and imaginative rather than just rambling along ((hugs)) )

**Vicious Loner: **Thanks for the compliment. :) I actually got the idea for Kisame and Zabuza's whole moment from another story on this site (wish I could remember the name; I'd recommend it any day. The author did a great job on it...), the rest with Ping and the whole split in Kisame's family I made up myself. I'm happy that it seemed plausible.

**Depressed Mizuki: **Your review brought tears of joy to my eyes! I'm thrilled that you liked my little idea of how Kisame and Zabuza came to be comrades. I remembered that Zabuza wasn't supposed to be in his own exam, and well, no one ever said wasn't supposed to _ever _take it, so I just added on from there.And with Ping, well you know, everyone's childhood is supposed to be screwed in Naruto, right?Sorry to say I couldn't resist using a couple of OCs in this ((sad)) but they'll be out of the story by the end of the next chapter, never to be heard from ever, ever again. I just got this idea for a flashback, and well...I couldn't very well stick HAKU in the bar scene, could I? (Might have been entertaining, but not in character). I hope that this chapter seemed up to par with its predecessors ;)

**Smoking Panda: **Aw, no cheerleader? ((equally sad)) I'm glad that you still think I'm staying true to the character. I'm still debating with myself whether I'm doing a good job with certain points (for example, the masturbation scene in this chapter. It was alot harder to get this one out than the last one.).And with the tie between Zabuza and Kisame ((hugs)) so far I've only received more approving responses than disapproving glances. I could dance with happiness. ;) Thanks for the encouragement!


	4. Chapter 4

There's a difference between fear and caution that is all too often overlooked. Fear is hiding behind others stronger than yourself for protection. Caution, on the other hand, is knowing that on your own you are helpless, and securing those stronger people to stand in front of you. Gato had been dealing in the wrong kind of business for too long to care about explaining the difference to his employees, or to care about how they chose to interpret his silence. Following his definition of caution, he only cared that the people he hired were around when he needed them to be, and that he paid them just enough to ensure that degree of loyalty.

He also made sure that the few times he employed someone his control over couldn't be adjusted with the size of their paycheck, he had a means of disposing of them once their hazards began to outweigh their assets. On his own, Zabuza was not a hazardous employee. He was difficult and spiteful, and easily had the potential to become a hazard, but he was also prideful. Gato had learned early on in his business that pride was one of the best traits he could hope to come by in the people he hired. Their rates may go up a bit more than the average worker's, but more than any amount of money, their pride bound them to their job. If only to keep his reputation intact, the former Mist swordsmen would expend any risk to kill the troublesome bridge builder Gato wanted out of the way, and that was exactly why Gato hired him. It was the boy, the tag-along that had not been mentioned when he and Zabuza discussed their contract, that made the shinobi team a liability. From what he could tell, the boy would not see any of Gato's money, and therefore was not affected by it. He also lacked his master's blinding arrogance that had made him so desirable as a hired assassin. And on top of that, the boy was fast.

Gato wound his way through the backstreets of the island village, shrouded in the mist of hired bodyguards. Without thinking, he tenderly adjusted the strap of his arm sling. Zabuza wasn't disciplining his apprentice correctly, and Gato knew better than to order for the boy's immediate dismissal. The Mist shinobi needed to be treated as a unit. He and that effeminate, tiny, little...

Gato shook himself when his sudden change in thoughts made the fist of his injured arm clench. He had to remind himself that he was in the Wave Country, where there were no schools. And because of that, no school girls. Things that his imagination supplied were not to be brought into his decisions here. As for Haku and Zabuza, he knew how to deal with their type…

Gato's party came to a halt when they reached an intersection where several other pathways crossed to form what would appear to be a large star if viewed from above. It was somewhere between late morning and early afternoon, the worst time of the day for a meeting between acquaintances that should not be acquaintances, but nevertheless the only time that Gato could be sure that he would not be missed by more acceptable peers. The Wave Country was not known for its large cities, mostly because its population was not capable of supporting them. Everywhere around Gato, sunlight was pouring into the alleyway network, vanishing most of the shadows that both he and his associate preferred. It was inconvenient, but on a low-income island, where the buildings were always one story and the weather more often than not took a turn for the luxurious, the lack of shadows would just have to do. Maybe after he took control over the island country, he could order the construction of larger buildings that would better suit his and his associates' preferences. Hotels would be a nice installment. Put the stubbornly bright weather and climate to use as a vacation spot.

Gato eyed the area around him, already thinking of which locations would give his future hotels the best views to draw in customers. His interest shifted back to the concerns of the present day when his eye fell on a bum farther down the alley on his left-hand side. It was a young man with dirty clothes and torn hems, sitting slumped against the alley wall with his forehead pressed into his knees. A dark green bottle sat on the ground next to him, explaining as clearly as written sign that the man it belonged to was nothing out of the ordinary. He was probably a fisherman that was put out of work when Gato began starving the island into submission. Gato had noticed that there had been a growth in the number of unemployed since he took an interest in the Wave Country. The urchin's ragged clothing suggested that he had been beaten down by the decline long ago. Nevertheless, Gato couldn't help but notice that the man was young, and young men in desperate situations had the annoying habit of trying to become heroes.

Catching the eye of one of his men, Gato nodded in the young man's direction. A moment later, his guard was stationed beside the drunk, ready to attack at the first sign that he was anything more than a desolate bum sleeping off the effects of a liquor-induced stupor.

Occupied as he was by watching his bodyguard position himself beside the islander, he didn't notice the approach of his associate until he heard the oily croak from the opposite alley.

"Good morning, Gato-sama."

Turning around, Gato instantly remembered why he had come to the island village in full daylight in the first place. His guards parted for him as he moved closer to the voice's source. His acquaintance was standing far in the pathway on the right, the one that boasted the most of the sparse dimness that their setting provided. Gato walked deeper into the alleyway, as far as he needed to in order to make out the familiar features, but no more than that. Even with people he had known for years, he felt the need to be cautious.

In mock concern, the voice asked him, "Gato-sama, did something _unfortunate _happen to your arm?"

Gato chose to ignore the comment. He could imagine the amused ripple that went through his cluster of bodyguards behind him. To his associate, he said, "I trust that you know why you were called?"

"Hai, hai," the vaguely shrouded figure answered him. Even in the dimness, Gato could see the outline of the smile on the other man's face, and hear it faintly in his voice as he spoke. "Though the reason that you gave me was most _shocking..."_

"The shinobi I hired," Gato snapped, "are getting to be too expensive for the results they're delivering." Unconsciously, the fingers of his injured arm flexed, bringing to the scout's eyes down to them for a moment while he went on. "I want them off the payroll, and I don't want anyone around to hold grudges about it afterward, do you understand?"

The shadowed head nodded. "Of course, Gato-sama."

"Good." Gato glanced back at his guard and the slumbering drunkard on the pavement beside him, making sure that the urchin's head had not moved and that a pair of eyes was not watching him from between the filthy arms crossed to form a kind of pillow for the man's head. "The next time they attack will be five days from now. By then, I want an army of our regulars ready to take them out. Can you manage that?"

"I will do my best, Gato-sama." The figure's head cocked to one side, watching Gato levelly when he added, "But transferring so many men onto the island without raising suspicion will be a problem."

"We've gotten people into tighter places," Gato pointed out harshly.

"Yes, but we do not want to risk the _expendables _hearing anything suspicious. The one that did _that," _the shadowed head nodded toward Gato's arm, "is still perfectly mobile, if I'm correct."

Gato's fingers absently flexed a second time. In his mind, he turned his associate's concern over. "I'll see what I can do about restricting his visits to the village," he finally conceded reluctantly, thinking of Zabuza's shortcomings when it came to keeping his younger charge in check.

"That would make things easier." His associate didn't thank him. "But perhaps you can indicate a more reasonable number of men you would like to have brought over?"

"A hundred," Gato stated immediately.

"Ah," came the oily reply, "I doubt the village itself has more than a hundred people left. I can get fifty over unnoticed."

"Fifty?" Gato echoed. One of his eyebrows twitched for a moment. His associate only shrugged. "Fine then, just get them here at the correct time." The figure nodded. Gato started to turn away, and then stopped. Raising his arm with the injured wrist a little out of its sling, he added, "And make sure these boys are fast. These two aren't amateurs."

"Of course, Gato-sama."

With that, Gato relaxed his arm again, and turned to reenter his herd of bodyguards. As he did so, he glanced wearily at the bum, wondering if he ought to have the young man killed as a safety measure. The young man hadn't so much as twitched since Gato spotted him. He let the idea go when his guard moved to rejoin the group. He looked at the man's greasy hair, hanging heavily around his arms and knees and laden with the evidence of weeks spent sleeping in gutters. It was a silent assurance that even if the drunkard had been awake, his warnings about an upcoming attack would have been dismissed by the sensible as the ravings of a desolate fool, and pointedly ignored by the ones who had already succumbed to Gato's rising influence over their country.

Assured, Gato left the dirty young man leaning against the side of the building. By the time he reached the mouth of the alley and walked back into the infuriatingly bright sunlight, he put the thought of him out of his mind. He had more important things to tend to. And because of that, he never thought to look back in time to see the dark hair be pushed aside, or the red eyes that focused onto his back as he walked away.

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The difference between an ANBU member and an ANBU captain is that the latter, unlike the former, is never assigned to a solo mission. An ANBU captain is a leader, someone who instructs and takes responsibility for an entire group of people. Itachi had been thirteen years old when he crossed the line from member to captain in the Leaf. His cousin Shisui, who had the benefit of being a few years older, became a captain the same year. They were both given command of five of their former peers, many of whom were new to the ANBU status. In Itachi's case there was a notable difference in the attitude of his subordinates than in his cousin's, which he suspected was directly due to the age gap between them. Nearly every member of his team had been into their teens the year that Itachi was born. Over the months that followed his installment as captain, Itachi carefully wore down the members of his team. The time it took was longer than what was usual in ANBU cells, but by the time that Itachi left the village he had turned the five men he was placed in charge of into a loyal and unshakably efficient team.

He did it by setting specific hours that he expected to see his subordinates training, starting ridiculously early in the mornings and stretching on for a full twelve hours. Daily. He didn't care if his men were assigned missions during the day. He told them to check in with him and that he would either speak to the Hokage or arrange to meet with the person at another time to make up for the hours missed. He left lists and notes at the local grocery stores and restaurants, naming each of his five subordinates and giving a list of items that they were allowed to buy during their intensive training period.

Several times he made a point of catching rebellious team members breaking his rules, and indirectly punishing them by informing the Hokage that he did not think that the individual shinobi was in a suitable state to take on missions for up to a month. Without missions, a shinobi makes no income. The members of his team paled when they first found out he could do this. In actuality, the Hokage only knew the barest details about what he subjected his charges to. Otherwise, Itachi would have likely been forced to make some adjustments to his off duty restrictions on the older men's lives, but none of his team members ever complained. Itachi suspected that it must have been the lower ranking ninjas' pride that kept them quiet. And also, there was the fact that every absurd demand that Itachi made to his team members, he fulfilled himself as well. His mother gave him odd looks during the last few months, when Itachi began turning aside certain meals that did not match with his set diet, but he never explained himself. Even on occasions when one of his group members had a mission, Itachi still participated fully in his training regulations. More than once he had to wake Shisui up before the sun was up and drag him to the training grounds so that there would be an even number of people for sparing. Each time he knocked on his cousin's door, he was met with a tired smile and a shake of the head. "You're too hard on them," Shisui warned him as he grudgingly slipped on his sandals.

"I have to be hard on them," he answered stubbornly.

Sometime in the second month of Itachi's captainship, his tactics won out. When the last of his stubborn underlings finally looked at him with that glare that said that the jealousy of a minor's higher position had been replaced with frustration with what his team captain was capable of doing to him, he knew that he had finished breaking his subordinates in. When one was angry, age didn't matter.

Unfortunately, Itachi had left his village after his third month as an ANBU captain. Shortly after, his subordinates were all killed in a futile mission to bring him back. But given more time, Itachi was sure that under their hate-powered training, his five charges would have been able to succeed eventually. Or at least have managed to return to the Leaf alive.

When Itachi came to the Akatsuki, however, he was not granted the same control over Kisame as he had had with subordinates in Konoha. A two man team rarely has a set leader, particularly when the team is made up of equal ranking members of the same organization. The Leader never needed to tell Itachi that the shark shinobi was not meant to be a subordinate; he made it clear when he told them about their partnership, addressing them together as one rather than individually. To Itachi, who was used to the simple system of either being a superior or an underling when working with other ninja, it was a difficult relationship for him to grasp. Particularly when he thought he saw the same humoring glint in his partner's eye the first time he took command during a mission that he recognized from the first months with his ANBU team. Kisame liked to tease though, he realized shortly afterward, which left him to wonder whether he had only imagined that the look was real, if it had been there at all.

If it was, it had likely died by now. In the present, Itachi knew that leadership now depended on qualification, and tasks fell to the person who both Itachi and Kisame knew was better capable of completing them. Arguing over who did what was no longer needed between them; they both knew one another's weak points too well to try hiding them from one another. Take for instance, Kisame's illusionary abilities. Itachi knew without thinking that his partner's abilities in that area were as good as were needed in order for someone with an appearance as noticeable as his, but the shark knew that Itachi's were better.

That was why the Uchiha didn't blink when his partner returned from the island village where he had been buying their breakfast, and recounted a fisherman's claim to having seen a boat belonging to one of Gato's associates docking when the rest of the village was caught up in the morning's fire. He only asked the shark nin one question:

"When?"

"Locals say that Gato's friends from the mainland only visit during the day. My bet is that they meet before the men get back from the bridge construction in the afternoon."

For a moment, Itachi thought back to the inhabitants of the fishing village that he had seen so far during their mission, and then he gave his order, knowing that both he and Kisame were aware that he was better suited to act on this information.

"I need grease."

"You need _what?"_

Itachi shot his partner a blank look, knowing the other nin had heard him perfectly well.

Kisame shrugged. "Fine. I'll be back in a minute."

During his partner's absence, Itachi removed his hair tie and hitai-ate and messed his hair with his hands. He couldn't remember what the clothing quality was in the village exactly, but he did remember that regardless of location, people living on the lowest level of society always looked the same. Without thinking, he stripped down to the thin layer of bandages remaining on his chest from that morning. The fresh blood that had worried him momentarily before was now faded to a faintly reddish brown. But as he looked down, he noted that the white of the bandages was still too clean for the disguise he wanted. Kneeling, Itachi checked the tightness of the bandage, making sure that it would be able to keep dirt out of the wound, before he laid down in the dried leaves covering the forest floor.

He knew that Kisame was back when he rolled onto his back and saw the bulky form of his partner standing between two of the surrounding trees. The look on his face said that he clearly did not know why his younger partner was half dressed and rolling around on the forest floor like an animal marking its territory, but was not given the chance to ask before the Uchiha genius sat up and held his hand out authoritatively for small container of grease he had sent the shark nin to find.

"I'm guessing that you're going undercover for this?" Kisame placed his jar on the palm of his partner's outstretched hand. Itachi took it immediately.

"Gato is our only lead." Itachi tore the lid off the jar hastily and let it drop unnoticed to the ground. One hand went to Itachi's hair, ruffling it again as he lifted the container to his nose. The smell of rotting animal fat that came from it almost made him blanch. Kisame must have gotten it from one of the outside stands. He sniffed again, and his nose twitched violently. The stall owner must have left it in the sun for too long as well.

A glance upward at the raised corner of Kisame's mouth told him that the shark nin now had a fairly decent idea of what Itachi was planning to do with the foul smelling slop. Staring back down at it, he tried to see if there were any stray hairs that were possibly left behind by the original animal that the grease had come from as he went on speaking, "If he's coming back to the island, he's probably going to confirm a second plan for the bridge builder's assassination."

"Makes sense," Kisame said idly. Itachi was sure that there was a jubilant undertone to his partner's voice.

Without glancing up again, Itachi angled his face toward the ground and held the jar above his head. Outwardly, Itachi was able to keep himself from flinching by a stubborn, enduring string of control when he turned the jar over and let its contents pour over his hair in a thick, slow stream. He could feel the gooey coldness as it rolled over every raven strand.

He could also hear Kisame snickering. "And if it's not him?"

Itachi let the grease container drop to the ground as he tossed his head back. He nailed his blue-skinned partner with a look that bluntly said that _someone _was going to pay for the abuse his hair was taking, especially if it turned out to be for nothing more than a senile old man's ramblings.

Another amused snicker. "Okay, got it,"

Wisely backing off until his partner was feeling less homicidal, the shark-like ninja went to lean against one of the trees circling their clearing and silently watched his smaller partner with the same expression of amusement that had come with the schoolgirl uniform. Itachi's red eyes followed him, making it clear that mentioning this disguise in the future was every bit as fatal as mentioning the last.

With both hands, Itachi dug into his hair. The grease moved like jelly, cool, moist, and yielding to his touch as he worked it deeper into the strands of his hair. Inwardly, he reminded himself to later scrub ever particle of the oily substance out, to the extent of scraping his scalp raw in the process. When he laid back down in the dirt, he thought that he could feel the leaves and pebbles latching onto his hair and tangling with it as he rolled over once, twice...If Gato wasn't in town today, Itachi was going to skin Kisame and that villager who claimed that he was!

When Itachi finally got up from the forest floor, Kisame looked him over thoughtfully. For a moment, he thought that the shark nin was going to make a jibe at the difference between his appearance now and what it was normally. However...

"Tear your hems."

The glare that Itachi had had ready for his response fizzled into a muted blink.

Kisame repeated, "Tear your hems. They're the first thing to get worn down when you wear the same thing everyday."

Itachi glanced down toward his pant legs, looking at the dirt that had embedded itself in the fibers and then back up at the blue skinned man leaning against the tree. "How do you know that?"

Another shrug. "Picked it up somewhere."

Itachi continued to stare blankly, silently signaling that he was still curious without outwardly acknowledging it. However, Kisame didn't wait to see it before he pushed himself away from his tree truck and dropped to his knees in front of his seventeen year old partner. Itachi frowned down at the top of the blue head, but tensed immediately when he felt something take hold of his legging and stretch it away from his ankle. Kisame reached under cloak with the other hand and came out with a kunai a moment later.

He glanced up at Itachi as he held the weapon by his partner's leg. "Do you mind?"

When Itachi looked into his partner's expression, he saw no indications that his partner was playing with him. Kisame was honestly trying to help him with his disguise. Yet…

Itachi inwardly shook himself. "No," he answered, shifting his eyes from the shark's nin's face down to the knife by his leg. Even on his knees, it seemed that Kisame's head was almost high enough to reach his chest.

"Alright then, hold still."

Itachi did as he was instructed. He watched his partner first slice into his clothing with the kunai, then later abandon it to continue fraying the edges of the fabric with his fingers to make the cuts appear older than they were. If the shark nin noticed that his partner stood rigid next to him even after the blade had been set aside, he didn't make any indication. He only said, after he finally stood up and brushed the leaves away from his knees, "Might want to take your shoes off too. I've never seen a bum that wasn't barefoot."

After Gato's meeting, Itachi waited until he heard the sound of Gato's men disappearing at the alley mouth before he allowed himself to get up from his position by the wall of a butcher's shop that Kisame had insisted was mentioned by his source. Unconsciously, his hand slipped away to rub at the kinks that sitting in that position for so long had caused.

Around his neck and shoulders, his hair hung in unhindered, greasy coils. The tips of his hair left damp trails on his skin as they slid lazily along his shoulders. He batted away the urge to shudder when a passing breeze seemed to highlight the unclean smudges they left behind. He had half hoped that Gato would give the order for an attack when he felt the pudgy man's eyes on him during the meeting, if only to give him an outlet for the unwanted frustration the morning's events had caused. Instead, he had one more memory to add to the growing list of bothersome events that he was experiencing during this mission.

Itachi angled his head toward the ground as he stepped out into the sunlight, both to hide his unfamiliar features from passing villagers and to protect his acutely sensitive eyes, more so because of his Sharingan, from the sun.

Through the corner of one eye, he saw a little girl scampering along the streets. It was nearly mid afternoon now, and the only people to be seen on the street were the homemakers of the village who were shopping for their families, and the occasional odd face that could be either taken as an odd tourist or an agent of Gato. Either way, the only people in the village market at that time were people with money. The child darted from person to person, smiling and holding her hands out in a silent request for money. In the shadows, Itachi could also see the little girl's parents watching her protectively as she approached strangers, ready to rush out and retrieve their child should she encounter someone that reacted negatively to begging. The child didn't come running after Itachi as he passed by, likely guessing from his appearance that he wouldn't have anything to spare.

Itachi had noticed the poverty level of the village the night that he and Kisame arrived there. It was one of many factors that made Itachi uncomfortable with the amount of work that Haku's capture was causing him and his partner to do separately. It was a liability, because if one of them was overpowered the other would have no way of knowing, and also because under close observation during their first year of partnership, when Itachi wasn't sure whether it was better to become friends or enemies with his partner, he had noticed Kisame's unofficial weakness for children. He couldn't explain its cause, and never asked to the former Mist nin to do so, but he knew the fact all the same. Even that morning, when he had reluctantly allowed his partner to go back into the village for supplies, he had half expected to see the blue skinned shinobi return after giving away everything but his sword to dirty-faced children.

The Uchiha came to the edge of the island village slowly, mindful of the attention that a drunkard would attract by appearing to move too quickly. Once he was finally out, Itachi straightened his posture. After checking over his shoulder to ensure that he was not being watched by any eccentric villagers, went to the first tree he saw and walked up its trunk. From there, he went as far out onto a branch as he was able to without drawing obvious attention, and leapt from there onto the nearest rooftop, where his partner was already waiting for him.

Kisame job's, for the second time during their mission, was vastly easier than Itachi's, in the Uchiha's own opinion. From above the same butcher's shop that Itachi had leaned against throughout the meeting, the shark nin had watched from above to make sure that if Gato _had _decided to have the street urchin in the alleyway eliminated, his men would have been shaved in half before they took their first step, and a much more satisfying form of interrogation performed on their employer.

The part of Itachi that still remembered straddling the old man's fleshy hips approved of the "satisfying" method whole heartedly, but was unfortunately overridden by common sense. Too likely that their targets would run for it.

Kisame looked up at the sound of the pebbles under Itachi's feet scraping against the roof tiles as he came near. Once more, there was that smile quirking in one corner of his partner's mouth that hinted that he was trying not to smile for the sake of keeping his skin intact, but the shark nin didn't say anything as his partner settled himself on the roof beside him. Instead, he held Itachi's cloak out to him, wrapped around sandals and missing shirts, just as it had been after the fire.

Itachi was still pulling the shielding material of his cloak over his pale shoulders to block the sun rays when his partner addressed him.

"So what did you find out?"

Itachi pulled his hair out from under the cloak's collar and momentarily regretted the loss of his hat. "Gato is planning to ambush Zabuza."  
There was a pause. "And our target?"

"Likely to be caught in the crossfire." Itachi watched his partner through the corner of one eye while he spoke. "It seems that one of them attacked Gato at some point yesterday."

Kisame didn't pause, if the information concerned him at all. "You think that might be his motive?"

"Possibly," Itachi answered vaguely, mind weighing what he knew of the little man he had just seen. "His ego is large enough for that. Several of his guards seemed like they were trying not to laugh when it was mentioned."

"He'll probably want his attack to be something big then," Kisame commented to the wind. Itachi knew that his partner's attention was divided during their conversation, monitoring the streets below in response to an ingrained sense of paranoia that Itachi had been drilled in during his own schooling in the Leaf, though perhaps not to the same extent as his partner. They both knew that to discuss their mission in a public place was dangerous, but to discuss it in the forest, where the chance of an unwanted eavesdropper going unnoticed was higher, it was better to let Kisame's instincts manifest.

"How long do we have to get our mission taken care of before he attacks?" the shark nin asked, bringing his eyes back up from the streets to look at the Uchiha again,

"Five days," Itachi answered readily. "It seems that he wants to have them finish their mission before he kills them. They must have already planned their next attack location."

"Did he say where?"

"It wasn't mentioned. The person Gato met with appeared to already know where the next attack will be held."

Kisame chuckled. "You have a very long way of saying 'no,' Itachi-san."

It was silent for a moment. Following the angle of the shark nin's eyes, Itachi traced his partner's gaze down to the little girl he had seen before. She was weeding her way between the bodies of adult streetwalkers, trailing after one particular person with rosy pink hair. The color must have caught the child's attention. It wasn't in Itachi to ask what it was about the, granted, outlandish looking girl, that had caught his partner's attention. Instead he brought his vision up to his partner's profile, silently willing him to notice.

When Kisame finally did draw look away from the two female children in the street, he grin, almost sheepishly at his partner for trailing out of the conversation. "So, we follow the bridge builder and wait for our target to show up, then?"

"Only until we can find out where Gato is stationed." As Itachi answered, a short breeze passed over the tops of the village houses, making his oily bangs stroke the sides of his face and remind him that he still needed to wash away his disguise. The urge to shudder in distaste was strong.

"I can do that," Kisame offered.

Itachi responded instantaneously, "No."

Below, the pink haired girl had frozen in mid step. Itachi could see her, and knew that likely, Kisame did as well. The beggar child's hand was firmly planted on the back of her dress, fisting in the material to get the rose-haired girl's attention. When the girl turned around, Itachi noticed the sunlight glinting off the top of her headband as she jerked her head to one side. A hitai-ate. There was a snarl on her face as the girl stared at the air for a minute, one fist raised as if to fend off an expected assailant that wasn't there. Itachi could imagine the worry that must have been on faces of the beggar girl's parents when it seemed that their child had made a wrong judgment in selecting a possible donator. But then, the pink haired girl's attention dropped down to where the small child was holding her hands out with the simple word, "Please."

When Itachi looked back up, it was to encounter Kisame's eyes focused on him instead of the scene below. The expression on his face made it clear that his response a few seconds ago did not go unnoticed. Itachi was good at overhearing things that people were not supposed to overhear, but Kisame possessed the ability to win people over enough to tell him what they didn't know he wanted to hear. 'No' broke their rule of qualification over insistence.

Itachi grasped for a viable explanation, until finally he settled on sending a pointed look into the streets, where the little girl was running back to her parents' alleyway with her cupped hands filled to overflowing with candies that the pink haired monstrosity had given her. Aloud, he said, "I don't trust you with these beggars."

Kisame looked where he was directed, and then back up at his partner again, then burst out laughing. "Itachi-san, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were making a joke at my expense."

Another breeze blew by; Itachi turned his face into it so that his greasy hair would be blown away from his eyes. His answer to Kisame was a practiced, disinterested, "Hn."

"I keep the look out for the bridge builder then, I got it." Kisame stood up, and Itachi watched through the corner of his eye as the former Mist ninja adjusted the strap of his sword, looked at his partner's uncharacteristic appearance one more time, and said, "In the meantime, have fun playing drunk."

Itachi hissed quietly at the larger man, knowing that the sound would be engulfed by the breeze. He watched Kisame's form after he stepped over the side of their building, disappearing into the shadows that had deepened only so much since Gato's meeting. A minute later, Itachi got up himself, not bothering to dust off his clothing as he turned to rejoin the crowds below.

He went to the edge of the building to mimic Kisame's method of slipping onto the streets unnoticed before another breeze, noticeably stronger than the last, made a lock of his hair wriggle free and skate across his face. Alone, he unabashedly reached out a hand to jerk the filthy tendril back into place while his other hand drifted thoughtfully over to the pocket where Kisame's shampoo was stored. Changing his direction, Itachi hopped down into an entirely different alley than his shark-like partner. Going away from the crowds and the possible information that they might be able to offer him, Itachi went toward the bathhouse district instead. When the wind began to pick up as he entered wider streets, it was an encouragement to make due on his earlier promise faster.

Haku could wait.

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History has shown that civil progress can take decades to come full circle, and even then there are always the chances that it can be overridden and forgotten with time. The common people are stubborn when it comes to preserving their way of life. Shinobi, on the other hand, are different. Their way of life encourages discovery and adaptation in a way that other groups have never quite understood. But even so, progress is still stretched out over the span of years because of the never shrinking death rate that the shinobi profession also endures. A ninja may come to accept a way of thinking different from his own one day, and then be killed in the action the next. It is an ironic factor of society in larger nations that the people who are quickest to react toward positive change in their nations are also the ones that disappear before they can make any impact on the larger, less flexible civilian populations.

It was only by stubbornness and a great deal of luck that the Water Country's bloodlines were not completely wiped out between the contrasting efforts of the Mizukage and the country's feudal lord. The second Mizukage of the Mist had outlawed the persecution of bloodline carriers toward the end of his reign, soon enough so that by the time the shark clan settled in the mountain village during the Third's ruler-ship, they were not immediately slaughtered by a horde of conservative shinobi clans. Younger generations that had never served under the Second were more gradual to accept the new law allowing bloodline holders into their midst, particularly the children of high ranking families who were reluctant to share power with the untried clans that came flocking to Kiri after the shinobi village declared itself a haven for the families that in many cases, had spent years hiding their abilities.

And flocking was unavoidable. To remain in the countryside or on the coast with a bloodline ability was dangerous.

The Hoshigaki clan had been among the first to take advantage of the promised safety that the shinobi lifestyle offered. After Kisame's grandfather became the head of their clan, he had wisely made the decision to move his family away from the Water Country's coastline and into the safety of the mountain village. Other ostracized bloodline clans were slower to act. It was possible that they may have made the mistake of believing that the Mizukage's influence extended over the civilian population as well as the shinobi. But civilians, even in the Mist Village itself, were under no obligation to follow a law that was not passed by their feudal lord. And though the Academy history lessons claimed that the Second had made countless attempts to reason with the civilian officials, a law protecting the rights of non-shinobi bloodline carriers was never passed.

Kisame had learned about his family's history from a distance, preferring not to approach his father or other relatives and hear something that he was fine not hearing about. He didn't want to know how his family had managed to survive the trip into the mountains when even the most humanoid abilities were still under extreme pressure to remain hidden, or how a land dispute had managed to start between a clan that was as old as his mother's had been and one that had just migrated to Kiri.

When Kisame was eighteen, his father remarried into another non-bloodline family. It wasn't as surprising as Kisame was sure that his original mother's marriage had been, now that it had been close to thirty years since the Second Mizukage's declaration of equality in the Mist. By that time, the shinobi population's natural gift at quick acceptance of civil progress had penetrated into all but the most removed clans, reducing the reaction to a subdued murmur when a few decades earlier there might have been a roar. Kisame had felt a twinge in the back of his mind when he received a message outside the town of the Water Country's feudal Lord, several days after the fact, informing him that while he was on his mission his father had married girl only five years older than Kisame was himself. He expected it to grow when he returned to Kiri, but when he met the meek creature, and saw her taking his mother's place at their table, he was surprised when he felt nothing. She was chuunin, fairly attractive, but unsure of herself and ultimately unable to compare to the woman who had lived unfalteringly in the heart of a pack of sharks for thirteen years.

Kisame couldn't bring himself to feel threatened by his stepmother; even when she became pregnant and rumors began to spread that his father was trying to replace him as the future clan head. His instincts were proven correct when his younger sister was born. A little girl who looked as little like her submissive mother as Kisame had expected her to be, but more importantly, as a female child, she was completely useless if Kisame's father was hoping to usurp him as his successor.

But even if the child had been born male, Kisame was still well into the Jounin status by the time the pregnancy had taken place. To have cast aside a son that had become as successful as Kisame had obviously become would have spurred gossip about their family almost as scandalous as Ping's death.

The same year that Kisame had heard about his father's second marriage, he had also received an order directly from the Mizukage. He was to go to one of the secluded fishing towns on the Water Country's coastline and meet with a higher ranking official that the Mizukage had sent ahead of time. He was told to set out immediately, and that he was to keep all information about his mission to himself until given further instructions. That suited the shark ninja just fine when he set out. He didn't know what he was being called for at the time, or why the location selected had been a village that he hadn't so much as heard of before, but knew not to question his Kage for answers that were not already provided for him during briefings.

The Water Country, every inhabitant of Kiri knew, got its name for a reason. It was different from the other countries it was allied with. Unlike their neighbors on the mainland, the Water Country was isolated by a wide stretch of ocean blocking it off from the rest of the world, and on its shores it housed water in all its forms. The Mist village itself was cautiously hidden away in the mountains at the heart of the country, where spies from the Fire Country would never be able to find it without a proper guide, no matter what unnatural eye techniques their clans managed to produce.

After Kisame's grandfather had secured his clan's place in the Mist village, he had been reluctant to leave it afterward. It was a trait that he had managed to instill in his children and them in their children after that. Without thinking, Kisame had turned down missions that would have taken him out of the invisible border that his family had unintentionally set separating the places the Mizukage's influence managed to reach and places where it hadn't. As a result, Kisame's father had only approached the warmer, tropical reaches of the Water Country's coastlines on specific missions where the Mizukage told him bluntly that his refusal would not be permitted, and Kisame himself had never seen a beach.

The effects weren't noticeable at first, when Kisame began feeling the temperature rise as he made his way to the village he was ordered to. His clothing was suited to the higher reaches temperature, and after the third day of walking around through trees that looked as if they had sincerely never heard the word snow, he began traveling bare shouldered. His skin protested at first, turning from powder blue to a sore shade of violet that the shark nin later realized was sunburning, but at the time didn't examine too closely. On the sixth day, he glimpsed the ocean in the distance for the first time. On the eighth, the muscles in Kisame's shoulders and the backs of his legs seemed to tighten and erupt in twitching frenzies at odd hours. He spent most of his nights lying awake, not sure what was keeping him from falling asleep. Finally, he gave into traveling through the night as well as the day, only pausing to rest when his body was exhausted beyond reason. Finally, on the eighth day of his journey, an early winter gust made him smell salt on the wind for the first time, and brought with it an overwhelming urge that Kisame didn't fully understand. On the ninth, Kisame had cut the last two days off of an eleven-day journey without noticing.

Kisame could see the village indicated by the Mizukage when he stepped out of the forest. He could see the individual people inhabiting it, the boats anchored off shore, as well as the children playing along the beach. He saw them all, but he didn't register them.

As he walked down the path leading toward the fishing village, Kisame felt his blood pounding. He had seen the ocean before, distantly from atop the training building. On clear days, it was almost possible to stare out into the sea and see the smaller islands that were scattered around the Water Country's border. _Almost_. But staring from miles away and staring from just a few yards was completely different. Kisame felt the desire to run in the backs of his legs, growing stronger with every step he took. He held himself back stiffly, and knew that as he came closer, the people of the village one by one began to notice him.

The children he had seen on the beach noticed first. They looked up curiously, noting first and only a stranger in the way that very small kids tended to do. It was their parents, looking up from their chores in the village, who stiffened and motioned in different degrees of subtlety, for their children to come home. The shark-like man might have cared, if his eyes weren't focused onto the sapphire expanse of the ocean before him, so much darker up close than it had been on those clear days in the Mist. He told himself, uselessly, that the sight shouldn't have been as unnerving as it was, even as his feet continued to lead him forward and off the path that wound toward the civilian village.

The wind from the day before was still there. Vaguely, it occurred to Kisame that the Mizukage would not want him to put off finding his official and proceeding with whatever odd mission he had been sent to the village to do, but that was swept away by a breeze laden with the intoxicating scent of the sea, and the tantalizing knowledge that its source was only a matter of steps away.

In the back of his mind something else came up, unnecessary but there nonetheless. He'd tested his gills once, when he was eleven years old and managed to slip away from a training session with his mother and brother to get outside and run out to a lake that was on his family's property. After he had come home, clothes still dripping and skin nearly blanched as light as his brother's, he had discovered two things. One, that as a human with shark-like genetic traits, his gills did not respond well to fresh water. The other, that jumping into a lake without someone else nearby, even in spring, was downright idiotic in the mountain area of the Water Country.

"Kisame!"

The shark nin startled when he heard his name from somewhere off to his side. He turned slowly, surprised to find himself standing on the gold-yellow sand. He didn't remember when the ground under him changed from hard gravel.

Coming toward him from farther off, was a figure that Kisame didn't recognize at first. The person had his hand in the air to attract his attention, even though he was the only one on that side of the beach. Green hair was the first thing that Kisame noticed, even before the abnormally big eyes and thick lips registered that had been remarked upon in countless bathroom stalls since before and after leaving the Academy. As the running figure came closer, Kisame grasped after the older man's real name among the various ascribed ones in his memory.

"Raiga?" Kisame tried when the figure stopped in front of him. He remembered the green haired man vaguely from his Academy days. They had never met, though the shark nin remembered that he had been in the same class as the panting shinobi in front of him, if only for a few months. Quick tempered and slow witted, he had been held back from taking the graduation exam three times, and missed the Academy reform by a slender string of luck. Kisame hadn't been aware that the other man knew who he was, much less his name.

The oddly wide lips bent into a smile that told Kisame he had guessed correctly. "Hai." Raiga's voice was a deep rumble.

Kisame studied his features, wondering if there was any possibility that they had seen one another at some point since those few months at the Academy. Locker room messages hinted that Raiga's memory was not capable of recalling a one time classmate's name at a moment's notice.

Coincidently, his hair made Kisame think momentarily of seaweed...

"Others are coming along," the green haired shinobi was saying amiably, "but you're the first I've seen today – I cannot seem to remember where we're supposed to go. Do you know where Mizukage-sama wanted us? It's hard to find your way in the town—"

"Excuse me?" Kisame blinked, eyes darting away from the dark green locks of his comrade's hair and back down to the disproportionate face. He wondered if he had heard the other man right.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Raiga repeated, unabashed.

Kisame blinked. For the first time, he wondered why there was another shinobi in the fishing village to begin with. Dumbly, he said, "You mean where _we're _supposed to go?"

"Yes." Again, Raiga didn't seem to notice the confusion that Kisame was trying to convey in his voice.

Kisame waited for a moment to see whether the older man would think about his tone and realize that he was asking a different question than the other man was hearing, but gave up. Bluntly, he asked, "What did Mizukage tell you to do out here?"  
Raiga started to answer, "I..."

He stopped.

Kisame waited.

Without warning, Raiga suddenly perked up. As if the shark nin had suddenly disappeared, the green haired man turned back toward the forest behind them and began to run. Kisame didn't move, wondering if he should call after the other man to ask if he was alright or whether he should go to the village and finally begin looking for the official the Mizukage wanted him to find. He was stopped from making his decision abruptly when he heard Raiga call out a name, in the same eager greeting voice that he had used when he had approached Kisame, that stopped him cold.

"Zabuza!"

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Discretion is a necessary factor for every shinobi's survival. Without it, one could not hope to pass the status of Genin, or to even remain in the profession beyond their instructor's evaluation at all. Kisame couldn't be sure, but he believed that after the reform in the Academy, the lack of subtlety and tact were the largest causes for deaths in rookie ninja. In his own case, a lot of credit probably belonged to luck, but in others…

After Kisame left his partner behind to navigate his way through the alleyway network of the fishing village, he had to stop before he reached the street. As he walked, he pulled his hands under the folds of his cloak to perform a brief series of seals before he passed onto the main street. The Mist wasn't nearly as efficient in its genjutsu as other countries. It was widely known that the Fire Country and the Grass Country were the masters. But Kiri shinobi knew enough to get by. Which was why Kisame didn't attract as much attention when he slipped back onto the crowded street. Invisibility jutsus were beyond him, but Kisame did know how to manipulate the chakra that surrounded his body so that people passing by him were _less inclined _to notice him, or that he was avidly trailing after a pink haired girl whose appearance clearly labeled her as well off in comparison to island locals, and the older man that she was with. If Itachi had recognized the girl as a Leaf Genin, or the man that she was guarding as the same villager their target was intent on killing, there had been no indication.

Catching up to the pair as quickly he could without overriding the illusion of normalcy he had set, Kisame was careful to avoid brushing into any of the people walking opposite him, following the girl and her elderly charge down the street until they came to corner that he assumed would lead to the old man's home. The crowd grew thinner there, thankfully, so that when Kisame stopped in blatant surprise, he didn't feel a villager walk into him from behind.

The bridge builder and the pink haired Genin from the Leaf turned the corner without him. By that time Kisame's head was turned, looking after a sound that had particularly stood out as his targeted duo neared the intersection. He stared first in confusion, then in disbelief when he looked across the street to see what caused the odd sound. His eyes fell on the slender form of what looked to be a young girl in her mid teens. Anywhere else, she might have gone unnoticed, save that on the island she was too well groomed to be a native, and that the dress she wore was obviously too intact for the Wave Country's state of decline.

As Kisame stood unnoticed and immobile on the sidewalk closest to the buildings, the girl walked right past him, striding down the street with a clear _click_ announcing each step.

The shark nin's head turned to follow the girl, the bridge builder forgotten as his lips slowly turned into a grin of recognition. He knew that face. Changing his pace, Kisame weeded his way back into the midst of people in the market place, trying to keep the pale figure ahead of him in sight. It was an odd coincidence, Kisame knew, and he had a feeling that if Itachi was present he would have been pulled back from following after the seemingly female market-goer. But fortunately for him, as far as Kisame's sense of chakra detection could tell, Itachi was already gone to wherever it was he intended to do his searching.

Kisame skirted a middle aged woman leading a pack of children behind her, eyes never leaving the form of his target. Weaving his way closer was made easier when the pink-clad figure stopped to examine an assortment of trinkets on display at one stall. With one pale hand, the outlandish market-goer thoughtfully picked up a pocket-sized mirror and held it aloft. The shark nin was able to see the dark eyes reflected in it, large and admiring as their owner politely nodded to whatever the stall vendor said to him.

Before Kisame could reach the stand, the mirror was back on the display counter, the pink form again darting between the groups of people filling the street. As Kisame pursued, he only came up with one clear question, and that was whether or not it was Zabuza or the boy himself who had come up with the undeniably brilliant female disguise.

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Some people will say that there is a cool feeling of acknowledgement that comes with meeting someone who ultimately changes the course of your life, as if there is a spiritual recognition that takes place before names are even exchanged.

Kisame didn't agree with that. At age eighteen, when he looked up to follow where his permissibly flight-minded fellow Mist shinobi was running in time to see the lanky form of Momochi Zabuza step out of the wooded area, there was no unexplainable experience of feeling the earth shift. No tug of fate. There was a shock of surprise and recognition, though not of anything that might happen in the future. It was the first time he saw the person who once huddled outside the Kiri training building for warmth since that night.

"Zabuza!" Kisame could faintly hear his green haired comrade exclaim again as he came to a stop in front of the single person responsible for the Academy reforms that might have otherwise seen Raiga disposed of before he was finally permitted to see rookie level. Like before when he had came tromping towards the shark nin, there was no honorific attached to the name, as if Raiga was too careless to consider beyond the one word that a person would respond to.

The other Mist nin had stopped walking when he heard his name called, and stood watching with his arms folded in front of his chest as the green haired man reached him. Zabuza had turned out shorter than what he had imagined, Kisame realized as he watched Raiga's profile straighten next to the bandage wearer. Raiga was almost tall enough to stare down at Kisame, whereas Zabuza's head had to crane back to avoid being hit in the forehead with the other man's chin when Raiga stopped a little too close.

There was no look of recognition that the blue-skinned shinobi could see from where he stayed, confused as he had been when he heard his own name called, on the beach. Faintly, he could hear Raiga's words carrying down to him. Not enough to know what they were, but just enough to know that they were there. Then after one string of ear-straining syllables, Zabuza's head cocked to one side, and his eyes swept over the beach. When they found Kisame's, they both stared.

Raiga didn't seem to notice.

Battling down a persistent urge to turn around and continue his walk toward the expanse of blue ocean that came back with the breeze as if to remind him that it was still there, Kisame made his way toward the other two shinobi. As he did so, the two eyes visible over Zabuza's bandages stayed with him, and Kisame got the slightest impression that he was being measured.

"Zabuza? What are you staring at? You _do _know where we're supposed to go?"

Kisame had heard of Zabuza in a different way than Raiga. He was the mysterious boy who managed to spark a reform in the Academy, forced the Mizukage to look more closely at the desolates lining his streets, and finally, acknowledge the killings that had baffled his chuunin as valid. The Hoshigaki heir didn't know how the mysterious killer had managed to be trained the first year after he became a Genin, when there were no other rookies to make up the necessary number of people for a rookie team cell. He might have been trained one on one, for all the shark nin knew, to make up for the massive gap from skipping the formal lectures on chakra control that the Academy would have otherwise have given. Later, Zabuza had become the kind of oddity that was heard about from a friend of friend, but rarely seen; this largely due to the younger man's uncanny preference for training outdoors, with a rumored tolerance for cold that went beyond the normal rate even for a citizen of Kiri.

Kisame unconsciously made a habit of not speaking when the subject of the silent killer came up. There was no sense of loyalty that caused it, but rather a strong urge not to delve too deeply into whether he should feel anything toward his part in the Academy history, or the set of keys that were buried away in a drawer somewhere in his attic, along with a photograph of his Genin team, with the girl that never quite recovered from her younger sister's death.

"Mizukage-sama didn't say that this was a group mission," Zabuza finally said gruffly. At some point his attention had returned to Raiga, who had repeated his initial question.

Over Zabuza's shoulder, a glimmer of reflected sunlight skated along the blade as its owner turned toward Kisame when the shark nin answered him, "We weren't told that it would be a solo mission either."

Zabuza's expression changed under his bandages, though the covered portions of his face made it difficult for someone who did not know how to read the bumps and shadows to tell if it was a scowl or something less rebuffed.

Raiga stood silently between them, large eyes drawn inward as if he were listening to something that neither of the other two present were able to hear.

Kisame endured the weight of the other man's black eyed stare for as long as he was able, before finally shrugging. He said, "All that I was told was to find his attendant and listen to what he has to say. Not much of a mission to begin with."

The shadows on Zabuza's face changed positions again. The black eyes narrowed, in what reminded Kisame fleetingly of the wary expression worn by a stray cat when it first notices a larger animal watching it. In actuality, Zabuza was likely thinking back to his own instructions before the Mizukage sent him out to the nameless fishing village. He knew that the other swordsman wasn't given any more information about what they were doing here and with whom when the eyes finally eased. More easily than before, Zabuza asked, "So how many of us are here?"

Kisame was about to remind his comrade that the Mizukage hadn't even told them that there _would _be anyone else in the village, when another voice sprang up between them, disturbingly clear in its certainty.

"Seven."

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Once one becomes missing nin, his ability to hide his face becomes vital. In the Akatsuki, the notable patterns of the organization's cloaks canceled out whatever good might have been done by their high collars and shading hats. But the Akatsuki was meant to draw attention, and with elite shinobi, remind people of the organization's reputation. Frankly, the Leader wanted the very sight of the Akatsuki colors to be intimidating. They were one of the only exceptions to the rule; in any other case having such a notable appearance could be classified as having a desire to be hunted down and possibly torn apart by hunter nins and bounty hunters from every village that knew how to read a wanted poster.

Zabuza was one of those people.

Kisame might have expected it from his time with Zabuza before their exile. The other missing nin was headstrong, cocky, and possibly by an ingrained distaste for the civilian populace that had come from living on the very bottom of the Mist Village's social levels, Kisame knew that Zabuza had a remarkable ability to completely underestimate a nin-ninja's ability to recognize him. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for a shinobi still serving in his own village. ANBU members wore masks while they were on duty, and put them away when they were not. Zabuza, on the other hand, had never worn his mask. When asked, he said that the eyeholes hindered his vision, and as strange as that sounded coming from someone that was supposed to be trained to use other senses to detect their enemy, the fact that Zabuza's face was still regularly covered during missions kept the matter from becoming an issue. Until Zabuza's teammates realized that Zabuza wore his bandages _full time_, regardless of whether he was tracking an escaped killer or going to the market to buy groceries.

In a side, almost guilty way, Kisame was glad to see that Zabuza's stubborn carelessness hadn't been handed down to his tool. The boy walking ahead of him in the pale pink dress walked slowly, shying away when larger groups came walking down the street in the opposite direction. The chakra signature was neatly held close to its source, not strong enough to attract attention for a trap and too loosely covered to suggest that the boy was expecting one himself. But the boy had also walked right past the bridge builder. And Kisame was sure that anyone who could manage to outsmart Uchiha Itachi twice in one day could not possibly miss seeing his own target on the sidewalk. To Kisame, the evidence seemed to say the same odd, but admittedly not impossible thing: Zabuza's apprentice was out for a walk.

To the shark nin it seemed that killing the bridge builder in town would have been perfect. He was out in the open, when the only people who still have the will to fight against Gato's rising power would still be busy at the construction site of the bridge. Kisame had done assassination jobs similar to the one the boy was hired to do now, before and after joining the Akatsuki. And the signs of a group of people that had been beaten down past the point of resistance were not hard to miss.

Suspicion prickled in the back of the shark nin's mind. Checking to make sure again that he hadn't been spotted by the slender form ahead of him, Kisame crossed to the opposite side of the street so that he could watch his target in profile rather than from behind. He wanted to be able to see what his target was doing, and possibly see if there would be an opening that he could take advantage of to grab the boy without drawing too much attention. The sun was slowly moving past the midday position, grudgingly allowing the shadows that had been so scarce when Itachi was trying to find a spot to listen in on Gato's conversation to deepen and expand.

Kisame kept his jutsu in place cautiously, thankful for the undrainable amount of chakra that both his sword and natural stamina provided. Without the Akatsuki hat, which he regrettably hadn't thought to grab before the letter bomb went off that morning, Kisame's face was too easy to see. He adjusted the color of his cloak, despite the fact that Zabuza's charge had already seen Itachi too many times to have not memorized the Akatsuki uniform by now.

Zabuza's boy turned a corner, going down a street that was slightly less crowded than the one he came from. When Kisame followed, he could tell by the smell that they were coming closer to the docks. The stalls were crammed close together with signs advertising different prices and types of what was ultimately the same product. Along with the salty smell of the sea, the air was laden with the pungent odor of fish.

Kisame took this in, still watching his target from several feet away. He frowned. The houses around them looked as if they were used primarily for storage purposes rather than actual homes. The only people that could live by the docks here were the ones who had been fishing for too long, to the point where their nose had stopped noticing the smell that came with along with their mastery. Kisame hadn't noticed it at first, when he had been a teenager first discovering a set of instincts that he hadn't been aware of in his genes. But in the present, the charm had gone away with familiarity, and seeing his target come here made him momentarily pause, as a warning flag inwardly rose. The docks meant water, and Kisame already knew that his target, if nothing else, was trained by someone who had mastered water jutsu.

Dropping back, Kisame let the distance between himself and his target grow. He selected an alleyway, still on the opposite side of the street from the boy who looked so much like a harmless female, and darted into it.

His target seemed to be examining the varying displays of fish. In this part of the village, the ground was not made of packed dirt or concrete. Instead, the roads were overlapped with wooden planking, leading from the beginning of the street right out to the end of the docks. The effect of the different flooring made the boy's sandals echo more loudly than before. Even if his eyes were closed, Kisame could find his target easily.

The boy walked down to the very last stall. The one closest to the water, Kisame noted despite himself. The vendor didn't rush to cater to a potential customer here, as they had on the main street. Still, the outlandishly fair teenager waited, patiently, to be noticed by the vendor.

"Sir?" the boy asked after taking a moment to look over the fish set out on ice for the inspection of buyers.

The man looked up from whatever he had been doing behind the desk – Kisame couldn't see what – to look at what must have appeared to him to be a young girl with no visible purse or place to store money on her person. As if to confirm Kisame's suspicious, his first words to the petite creature in front of his stall were, "Gomen, miss, I cannot accept credit."

"Ah, good." The boy's voice was soft, unperturbed by the initial rejection. "I have money with me. What I wanted to ask you was..." The boy's voice dropped as he leaned over the counter. Kisame saw the vendor's brow crinkle, first as he strived to hear what his customer was saying, and then in confusion as he drew back and looked over the slight figure of Zabuza's apprentice. He seemed to be pondering the size and shape.

Still frowning, he said, "We caught a fresh one this morning—"

"Good, I'd like it please."

"But we haven't had time to have cut yet. Working hours have been uncertain since the bridge—"

"I don't mind." Zabuza's student didn't give the man a chance to finish his sentence. With a persistence that almost ruined the gentleness of the voice's tone, the boy pretending to be a girl insisted, "I can cut it myself. Just bring it out for me, if you don't mind."

"You're _sure?"_ The man said back, but he was already getting up from his stool and turning toward a curtained doorway.

"Hai," the reply came anyway.

The salesman's apparent skepticism made Kisame uneasy. He couldn't tell if there were any signs of annoyance or rebuke on the boy's face from where he was standing. Idly, he looked over the wares that were on display. The stall sold mostly larger fish, but nothing that a girl would have had trouble carrying on her own...

While the vendor was gone, the men working the other booths didn't attempt to divert the attention of the pink-clad teenager as most did in other markets that Kisame had seen. Instead they stayed quiet, looking vaguely ahead of themselves or pointedly down the street, as if not wanting to see the supposed young woman standing a few feet away. It was odd. Kisame made a side note in his mind to mention this to Itachi later.

A minute passed before Kisame abruptly realized that with the streets in this part of the village as deserted as they were, this was the perfect time to capture his effeminate target. However, no sooner had the thought entered his mind before the curtain over the fisherman's back room moved, and the stall vender emerged with the boy's order. What Kisame took to be a very large fish, was draped over both of the man's arms as he heaved it onto the display counter in front of his customer. Stiffly, the man said, "It's rather large."  
"No, not at all." Kisame saw a thin finger trail from the tip of the creature's tail and then trace its way to the head, hidden behind his target's body. The expression on the vendor's face turned to annoyance when he saw that the "girl" was not at all put off from making her purchase.

His target walked around, going to the end of the counter and leaning across it, reaching for something.

Kisame felt the muscles in his back tighten as the boy's reaching caused his body to move, and allowed him to see the creature that was laid out on the inspection table. Particularly the pointed nose, and the gapping, empty mouth of a young male shark.

"Actually," the boy was saying to the vendor and he straightened from sifting among whatever was kept on the owner's side of the stall, "I was hoping that you would have bigger. I'm cooking for a lot of people, you see."

Sunlight reflected of the end of large butcher's knife, nearly also long as the boy's arm from wrist to elbow. Without asking for permission to take it, the pale figure went back to stand in front of the shark body.

"You won't fine a better one in town," the stall vendor said grudgingly, his eyes fix to the knife as it was raised. "These kinds don't come close to shore very often anymore. That knife probably won't be sharp enough—"

"Don't worry," the boy's voice cut through the man's sentence once again. Still not blatantly rude, but harder than before. "I know how deal with a shark."

Kisame was still not able to see his target's face when he rolled the shark over, but he did notice how the shark's mouth seemed to quiver as it was pushed onto its side, and how its eyes were wide and glassy as they stared out as if they could see the blade.

Kisame swallowed.

The boy slammed the knife down, tip first, into the space just above the shark's gills. The force of the impact made the vendor glance down his table warily, as his displays shook. The man hadn't been lying when he said that his catch was fresh; when he shakily made the suggestion that he butcher the body instead, droplets of blood flew from the edge of the knife as the boy brought it up and pointed it at the vendor in one swift motion.

"It's a slow day," the eerily sweet voice answered back. "I will only take a moment. Please."

The man stepped back until he brushed against the leg of his stool, and sat down. The boy's knife stayed trained on him the entire time, and Kisame noticed that down along the street other people were looking toward the stall, all frozen as they watched the scene take place. His target must have noticed them, as any shinobi would have, but he chose not to address them.

The vendor also hadn't been lying when he said that his knife wouldn't be sharp enough to butcher the shark. Despite the best efforts of the seemingly delicate muscles in the boy's arm and shoulder, his knife couldn't cut through the shark's spine when he attempted to take the animal's head off. Kisame could see the moment that the pink-clad boy encountered bone, and how the sawing motions of his arm made the shark's head jerk as if it were shaking its head at his attacker.

The fish vendor again made his offer to cut up the shark himself, and turned down in steely, "No thank you. I think I've got it now."

Zabuza's tool withdrew his knife, whipped the handle so that his grip wouldn't be affected, and then rolled the fish over so that it lay with its belly facing the street. One hand clutched at the shark just under the gnash that had already been made, while the other dragged the blade down, opening the animal's stomach and allowing its blood to pool on the counter.

Unmovable from its body, the shark's head continued to stare up at the sky, indifferent to the blade that cut away its flesh, as Kisame unconsciously took a step farther into his alleyway, when he thought for one moment, that his target's head would turn.

Zabuza's tool knew how to make himself clear.

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Zabuza and Kisame both stared at Raiga after the one word left his mouth. For a moment, the sound of the seagulls shrieking over the not too distant fishing docks was the only response that the green haired man got, before he blinked, and with the action, seemed to erase the other two other ninja present from his awareness. He turned away from them and began walking toward the village without a word.

Zabuza's eyebrows began to slant toward one another above his bandaged nose. Kisame, after wasting a second exchanging a mutual look of confusion with his fellow remaining swordsman, started down the path after Raiga.

"Wait, where are you going?" It wasn't often that Kisame found someone with longer legs than himself, but Raiga's were moving at a leisurely pace, allowing the shark nin to catch up with him easily. When Kisame addressed him, the other man seemed jarred. For a moment Kisame thought that he was going to have remind the green haired shinobi what his name was,

The look of confusion passed though. Within a moment, Raiga answered him simply, "To get a boat."

Kisame stared, but before he could phrase a question asking why Raiga had suddenly decided that he _needed_ a boat, the older nin added, almost defensively, "We were supposed to go into town anyway."

"Uh, yes." There was a blankness behind Raiga's abnormally large eyes that Kisame couldn't quite place. He felt uncomfortable for some reason. He thought he could hear it in his own voice when he answered, "I suppose we were..."

"Good, then let's go!" Raiga began to turn away again. Kisame stood frowning at the back of the green head as its owner walked away, trying to remember if there had been any clear indications of communication problems when he had briefly known the other shinobi at the Academy.

"I don't like this." Zabuza's voice at his elbow came unexpectedly.

Kisame's shoulders went rigid on impulse; he hadn't even noticed that his other comrade had followed him when he went after Raiga. When he turned, it was to find himself staring directly down into the intent dark eyes that were not completely unfamiliar. "Why's that?"

Zabuza's eyebrows inclined toward each other, just slightly. Briefly, his eyes darted toward the path over Kisame's shoulder, while their owner asked, "Have you noticed?"

Kisame's mind drew a blank. He gave the bandaged swordsman a look that went unnoticed because Zabuza returned his gaze to the path and their other comrade. "Noticed what?"

Kisame watched the lines indiscriminately change on Zabuza's face at the question, but it was his voice that gave way to irritation. "Do you know who that is?"

Down the path, Kisame thought he heard someone shout. Momentarily, he had an urge to turn around and see what Raiga was doing in the fishing village, but instead he answered Zabuza, shrugging one shoulder to show that he wasn't sure what the other man meant. "Is that in or out of the locker rooms?"

Kisame thought he heard a huff muffled by the bandages. He waited to see if there was another answer coming, but the bandaged man seemed not to think another one was necessary. Brushing past, Zabuza began walking toward the fishing village to join the green haired comrade in question, leaving Kisame to either frown and let the question drop, or follow.

They were almost at the village entrance when Zabuza dropped back to walk beside the shark nin again. Quietly, he said, "He only became a Jounin a few months ago."

Kisame glanced at the smaller man as they continued into the village without pausing.

"He used to tag along with ANBU groups until he went on a mission to wipe out a Fire Country spy on one of our outer islands. Rumor says, he slaughtered nearly half a village before he finally reported back to Kiri. It wasn't even the right village, but..." Zabuza's voice trailed off as they came to the path neared the docks. At the end of it, they could see Raiga pulling out his weapons and crossing them against one another in front of an older villager. Tiny trails of electricity licked along the metal staffs that could just barely be counted as swords. The poor man that had been standing in the green haired shinobi's way froze, dropping the net he had been carrying and letting the silvery fish inside flop onto the ground behind him. Raiga took a step forward, and the man scrambled to get out of his way without touching the charged sword tips.

Zabuza continued, "...his work since then has been perfect. Assassinations, recoveries, escorts..." Kisame saw the bandaged head shake, incredulous. "His old captain says that he started sayingthings out of nowhere, things he couldn't know on his own."

Kisame snorted. "Like a psychic?"

Zabuza looked back up at him sharply. Kisame expected a retort, but instead he snapped, "Have you ever worked with him before?"  
"No," Kisame answered as they stepped onto the wooden planking of the dock. By the efforts of their strange, but nevertheless intimidating comrade, the docks were now empty.

He heard Zabuza saying, "Neither have I." Then more quietly, "…I don't know about you, but _I _certainly never told him my name."

At the end of the docks, Raiga was struggling with the moor lines of a fishing boat that he had managed to frighten the owner away from. He was glaring down at the lines in his hand, the same expression used when he was threatening to electrocute the villager.

As he bent down over them, the odd shape of the blue-gray bag he had strapped to his back was pushed into the air, both swords safely tucked behind it.

Zabuza went forward without waiting for Kisame to form a reply to his last sentence. The same vague, unknowing look greeted the bandaged nin when he stopped in front of Raiga that Kisame had seen only a few minutes ago. Not pausing to reintroduce himself, Zabuza bent down and took the line from his confused comrade's hands, untying the knot with three quick, jerky motions. There was a slant to his eyes that seen in profile, indicated annoyance, but it was missed by Raiga.

As Kisame walked down the wooden planking toward his two comrades, he saw outline of Zabuza's jaw move, and Raiga smile. Whatever they said to one another was inaudible. For a moment, Kisame wondered whether Zabuza was now recounting his recent history to Raiga.

They were still crouched around the iron hook protruding out of the wood for fishermen to tie their boats with when his shadow fell over Zabuza's on the dock. As if the smaller ninja had been waiting for him, Zabuza chose that moment to ask, "So where did you say we were going?"

Raiga stood up before he answered, dusting his sweaty hands off on the outside of his Jounin vest as he did so. Then, "There are four shinobi out on that island."

Kisame waited a moment, then gently asked, "What island?"  
There were several sizable patches of land separating the Water Country from its closest neighbors. In times past, they had formed a civilian country of their own, but towards the end of the First's reign, there had been whispers of an alliance forming between their non-ninja neighbor and the, at that time, severely dangerous Fire Country. The feudal lord was then pressured by the Mizukage into occupying the smaller nation. After the Fire Country lost its interest in the islands, the occupation was supposed to end, but as things had gone, they were now regarded as small pieces of the Water Country. The villages that remained on the two islands were now sparsely populated. Families had eventually begun acquiring citizenship elsewhere when suspicion lingered on their home in the Third's reign.

Kisame frowned when Raiga pointed out into the water, where in the distance where the outlines of the islands closest to shore could faintly be seen. Which of the islands he meant was still unclear.

Beside him, Zabuza grumbled, "This isn't guard duty, is it?"  
Kisame stared down to where the bandaged ninja was still crouched on the docks, looking up at them. "Why would they assign three close range fighters to the same guard shift?"

"Seven," Zabuza snapped.

Kisame ignored him. He turned back to Raiga, who had apparently not been interested in the exchange. The green haired man was already clambering over the end of the boat, making it sway and splash seawater toward the docks in protest. "Did the Mizukage tell you to expect that?"

Raiga, after picking himself up from where he had landed on the deck of the boat when he finally managed to pull himself over its side, glanced over his shoulder to answer, but Zabuza crowed from where he still sat, "The Mizukage didn't say _anything."_

"They're there, though," Raiga insisted.

Kisame was still skeptical. "But isn't that island a little far to sense?"

Kisame saw Zabuza's shadow move as the other man stood up beside him. It was a second before Raiga shrugged, as if chakra signatures hadn't even occurred to him when he was making his announcement. As he swung a leg over the ship of the fishing boat, Zabuza sent the shark nin a look that, even with half his face covered, still managed to convey the message, _'I told you so.'_

Kisame glared back at him, before reluctantly moving to pull himself into the boat with his comrades. Until he looked down to adjust his footing and his eye found the welcoming blue of the ocean water peering up from between the boat and the dock.

He paused.

"Raiga," he called after a second.

He'd already seen Raiga turn away to go play with the steering wheel. The man's voice sound a bit farther away when he heard back, "Yeah?"

"You're sure that there are four shinobi out on that island?" Kisame's finger pointed down the dock as if it were a walkway, waiting for confirmation that he knew would come.

"Four shinobi and the Mizukage's messenger," Raiga answered pleasantly.

Kisame pushed away from the boat. Zabuza was standing on the other side, halfway through the act of propping his sword against the side of the cabin. He looked at the shark nin strangely as he answered, "Good."

He turned away from the boat without another word. He tried walking at first, but his feet picked up speed without bothering to wait for the mind's permission, as he went down the to the end of the dock, half racing by the time he was there, and threw himself headfirst into the sparkling water.

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If Kisame had expected his target to move quickly, he was disappointed. The boy had already proven that he was different from the Zabuza that he remembered. Zabuza had never been cautious. Other factors had made up for that shortcoming: stealth, knowledge, experience, efficacy… But there was always something else that overrode the ingrained sense of paranoia that most shinobi had. If the boy was anything like Zabuza, Kisame wouldn't have been surprised if he leapt up from the fish vendor's stall and came charging at him with the butcher's knife the moment he was done with the shark carcass. But the apprentice seemed to have done exactly what so many members of the Seven Swordsmen had been forced to when no one was able to shake Zabuza away from the belief that he was capable of so much more than his opponents: learn to work with it. Largely by developing the exact traits that the bandage wearer lacked.

Across the street, Kisame was still able to see his target. The boy was cleaning the borrowed knife with a handkerchief, and then holding it out politely to the stall owner. After he paid for the fish, Kisame expected him to turn away, but instead he lingered a little longer, asking the vendor if it would be alright if he washed the blood off his face before he left.

The boy was patient. With a nostalgic twinge in the back of his mind, it occurred to the shark like ninja that his target must drive Zabuza insane, too.

When the curtain opened again, the shark nin was finally able to see the face of his target for the first time since noticing him on the street. The large brown eyes were timidly directed toward the ground, once again supporting the image of a meek female market goer. But Kisame could see that his feet were moving more hurriedly now, down the street past the other stalls, and then around the corner and down the next. He was moving away from the water.

Kisame hesitated for a moment before he moved up to the rooftops again. If there was someone with his target, traveling above would be dangerous, particularly if the other person was also pursuing from that level. But it was faster, and easier to keep the pink clad figure from slipping out of sight as he made his way back into the crowded part of the village.

The sun had sunk lower now, bringing in the tide and with it, the workers from both the docks and the bridge. But even among the densest part of the market, his target managed to move swiftly. The villagers seemed to give him a wider berth than most, as if the female disguise wasn't completely necessary and his employment already well known.

Kisame stayed close enough that the sound of the boy's shoes on the pavement, and then later scraping against the small pebbles when the pavement gave way to trail, was a constant background chatter. The effeminate creature didn't shy away from the edge of town, either. When he approached it, Kisame was mindful to drop back, considerate of the fact that he had already been informed that his presence was not unknown. Let the boy go in to the forest alone for a second...

The shark nin was quiet when he finally followed into the trees. He jumped down from the last house and relied on his chakra sense to help find which direction the pink-clad shinobi had gone off in... but there was nothing.

Frowning, Kisame went in deeper, going straight and looking for telltale signs of someone passing by recently. Snapped twigs, crushed leaves, broken branches. He saw none of those. But then, most shinobi knew not to leave those signs...

_Drip.._

Kisame stilled. He turned to one side, staring off into the direction that for a second, he thought he heard the sound of a water droplet splashing. He changed his direction, winding his way between several trees that seemed intent on intertwining themselves together for the sole purpose of making his path more difficult. He stopped when he found a small bubble of empty space that the plant life had left untouched. It was small, but large enough to fit a very slight person, if they didn't mind the occasion twig poking into their space. At the bottom of the clearing, the ocean nowhere in reach, there was a swallow, fresh puddle.

_Drip..._

A water droplet fell from a low, thin branch reaching out from one of the trees. The water on it created a dark spot three inches wide, and the moisture pooled on it was heavy enough to still be falling periodically.

_Drip..._

Kisame's eyes dropped lower on the tree, down to its trunk, where another dark shape could be seen. Round, with five tail-like lines extending downward. A small, drying trail of water came down from each one. As if someone had rested their hand there after swimming for hours without drying off afterward, or just moments before they burst into water.

Several branches still jabbing into his sides from trying to reach the little clearing, Kisame began to extract himself from the small nook between trees. Under his breath, he recited several choice swears. He wasn't telling Itachi about this…

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Itachi stepped away from the island village's only remaining bathhouse with his hand idly ghosting the entrance railing. It was an old building that had doubtlessly already seen its prime long before Gato's forces had ever come to the Wave Country, but it had hot water and soap, and that was enough to satisfy the Uchiha. His hair, now free of the atrocious animal grease from before, was still damp as it hung around his shoulders. Washing the filth out had taken up the entire contents of the miniature shampoo bottle Kisame had salvaged from their room that morning, and as he walked, the evening breeze coaxed the unmistakable fragrance of peaches from the damp locks.

Itachi turned down the beaten road (if it had once been a sidewalk, then it had gone so long without sweeping that it was hard to tell). Inwardly, when he inhaled the reassuring scent, he experiences a momentary bout of sheer relief. Even the fact that he had spent the majority of his day making up for his lost morning ritual instead of hunting for leads on his and Kisame's target could be overlooked until later.

Children didn't frequent this part of the village. The people who were still well enough financially preferred to keep their children inside after dark, and the poor would doubtlessly rather have their children with them on the busier streets, where charitable passersby were more likely to be found. Itachi didn't mind the deserted streets. There were no curious children following him when he came to a mostly empty trash receptacle, and no one to dart toward it afterward after he dropped inside a cloth bundle that he had compiled before leaving the bathhouse changing room. At its center there was an empty plastic bottle, wrapped in the ruined pair of pants that he had been wearing since before coming to the Wave Country. Even if Kisame hadn't torn apart the leggings for his disguise earlier, a distinct stiffness to the material in a certain area had reminded the Uchiha that he had already needed a new pair before Kisame had even heard about Gato's meeting. It had been forgotten during the incident with Haku's bomb letter, then put aside while trailing Gato, but when distractions were finally over, the fact that his clothes needed to be replaced as soon as humanly possible had not changed.

Kisame was too respectful of the boundaries of his partner's privacy to have noticed any signs of discomfort that might have slipped onto his face unchecked during the few times that they saw one another during the day, but the shop keeper that Itachi had met when he went to buy a new pair hadn't been. Or so the measuring look he was given when he walked into the store had led him to suspect.

Itachi turned away from the trash bin, intent on finding another store where he could buy a larger bottle of shampoo before meeting Kisame. He was turning toward the street that he knew would lead him back toward the marketplace when he felt eyes on him; when he looked around, he kept himself from showing any outward sign of noticing. His head stayed angled forward, but a small flutter of pale pink in the corner of his eye flagged his attention. There was a girl across the street from him, walking in the opposite direction.

Something in the back of his mind stood up when he let his eye trail after her. A mid-evening breeze was blowing by, tugging at the girl's hair and obscuring her features, so that for a moment, Itachi didn't understand why the other's presence stood out to him.

The girl didn't look back as she continued to make her way down the unswept, pebbled street. He could tell by the angle of her shadow that her eyes were downcast, likely picking her way around the loose stones peppering the sidewalk. In her arms, she carried two large bags containing something unidentifiable from the growing distance between her and the contemplative former Uchiha heir. She was nearly at the end of her street before he realized that her skin was too pale for the climate, and that no woman as young as the girl appeared to be would be out unattended in a secluded district so close to sunset.

The girl's head turned as she rounded her corner, glancing back down the street and seemingly in Itachi's direction, as if to confirm the half formed suspicion in Itachi's head that the girl walking casually away from him was no girl. Her silhouette lingered for half a second, the stance almost saying, _'Are you coming?' _Then it disappeared behind the next building, the sudden distinct sounds of her footsteps echoing down the empty street, where a second ago, Itachi was sure they hadn't been.

_Click. Click. Click..._

Before the shadow had even begun to shrink behind the building, Itachi was already pursuing Haku, his plans of finding his partner and a decent shampoo shop forgotten. Likewise forgotten was his awareness of the fact that he was moving in the direction exactly opposite that of the forest and closer to the sea. And also, his target's undeniable gift to be severely underestimated by his opponents.

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((poke)) Attention everyone! I am not dead, repeat, NOT DEAD:)

I've finally finished the next chapter! ((dances)) This one has been in the works for quite awhile because of outside complications, so I'm sorry if anything seems a bit off or choppy about it, but for the most part- SQUEE! It feels good to update again!

...even if there was no KisaIta progress going on in this chapter.

**Reveiw Responces:**

**animedragongirl **((cowers)) I'll get to them, I promise! Just as soon as I kick my muses into providing a good set up for one. In the meantime, thanks for the review. 

**ano **You know, you're the first person to show compassion for the roomie. No body seems to care about Itachi's poor, naive, OCroommate... Your review actually came to me when I was FINISHING finals, and actually, it really made my day (June is evil). Thanks. I can honestly tell you that writing Itachi's awkward teenage moment by the stream wasn't easy. Itachi _did not_ to make to make the scene easy for me. XD 

**Diet Soda **Heh, sorry that it's confusing. I try to make it clear, but sometimes I'm not the best at that. Glad that this story still manages to interest you regardless. :D (and I like your pen name) 

**Nikore-Uichi **Praise is just as good as constructive criticism:D ((spoken from under onslaught of KisaIta plushie attacks)) Thank you for reviewing, my ego needs swelling! 

**Saiseki **You and me both wish someone would draw Itachi in a schoolgirl uniform. ;P Really, why has this area not been exploited to the point of exhaustion in fanfiction! lol, I don't remember what the total number of pages this story is at in Microsoft Word, but I can tell you that chapter three was thirty pages long, and _this _one is just over twenty-four. I like to ramble. :) You gave me so many compliments in your review, it had me smiling for a full five minutes afterward! I'm thrilled that someone out there thinks so highly of me and my scribbles. 

**Skinst!** Yo! Thanks for reviewing me here! ((snicker)) Jealousy? Oh, just wait. Itachi's jealousy isn't ANYTHING next to Haku...;P But of course, I can't talk to much about that. Might give the story away. 

**Nekotsume **Wooooow, that's a long review. ((blinks)) Yeah, you're probably right about how far Itachi would let Gato go for the sake of his ((ahem)) distraction. But I had brain bunnies controlling me, you see, and it just added so much to the humor factor, I just couldn't resist! Now with Ping's name...well, yeah, I wasn't wild for the name at first either. I actually came up with it while watching Mulan with my little sister, and after that, I just got used to calling him that. Behold the wonders of my naming techniques! sigh I hope to have Kisame and Zabuza meet at least once in the present time frame too, but having them together in a scene proved harder to write than I thought (does it show?). They'll have a lot of conversations in the flashbacks though, I can promise you that. (Ooo, the sharpened teeth bit has appeal. If I find a place to work that in, mind if I use it?) 

**Serafin **lol, That scene wasn't supposed to seem like a dream until the end. ;P Just me being difficult. I'm glad that you liked it though. 

**Psyche **lol, in your review you listed all the scenes that were cooked up in my sociology class. :) My teacher was a great inspiration for "DUH!" actions (I'm going to miss him next year...). Though the fluffier bits were more just fangirlish dreaming. At least now the time limit has been set. Sometime in the next five days, Itachi will either buck up the courage to confront Kisame, or Kisame will figure out why his partner is so touchy about the Haku-side of their mission. Either way, the story will be filled with more flashbacks, so it's a good thing that you like them. :D Especially when Kisame swoops in and fills up entire chapters with them (though actually, I made the story that way to avoid writing in chronological order; reading it is one thing, but I usually get a little bored writing that way --;). Thank you again for helping me edit this. I really appreciate it (and so does the part of my head that would have been slammed into the nearest wall when looking back over that "lesions" typo XD). 

**Shail666 **Not much shounen-ai in this chapter, unfortunately. Though Itachi did get a little nervous when Kisame was kneeling infront of him (naughty thoughts, I like to imagine :P) 

**minn yun! **Hi! It's been forever! (mostly because I'm a lazy arse who hasn't updated Family Matters since last summer --) I take it, you like Itachi's frustration? 

**Taiy-Chan **AFF was being a pain in the arse, so I wasn't able to update there. TT Even now, all my links to that site aren't working. I'm very heartbroken over this. Glad that you like how this is going. You're right, there really isn't enough on Kisame and Itachi. Especially not enough _multichapter _stories. 

**Suiren **Look, I updated at last! Unfortunately, there's no Kurasa, but I have hopes for thenext chapter. Maybe. ((looks around)) It depends on how the next scene with Itachi and Haku comes out. (Psst! But on a different note, if you have time, could you give me a Japanese name starting with the letter T? I'm hoping that I can find something that means "gray" or "shadow" or "ash" or something, and you're the only person I know that speaks it. Just if you're not doing anything else.) 

**Sacral** Heh, I'm sorry that this update wasn't soon. I had honestly thought it might be, but things started coming at me in my life outside the computer. You know how it is, I'm sure. Hopefully the next one won't take as long. In the mean time, ((dances)) thanks for the review! But if you think that I'm the best KisaIta writer, than you need to read "Nights in White Satin" on the livejournal community, akatsukilove. Do it now! The woman who wrote itis a goddess! 

**Azamiko **l'mglad you liked. 

**Smoking Panda **Writing their communication is really fun for me to do ('specially when it involves fluffy or funny things like Kisame walking in on something he wasn't supposed to or surprising Itachi with gifts :)) I'm glad you like. 


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